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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122695">The Question of Resurrection</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunelover/pseuds/kitsunelover'>kitsunelover</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Romance, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:29:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,068</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122695</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunelover/pseuds/kitsunelover</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years after the war, it transpires that Snape didn’t die after all. Not knowing who to thank (or blame) for this development, he turns to Hermione for assistance. Snape isn’t the only ex-Death Eater whose movements remain unaccounted for. What does Lucius know? And who exactly is meddling in Muggle elections on both sides of the Atlantic?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I Am the One Who Knocks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>After my own hiatus of 10+ years from writing fanfic, shelter-in-place has given me the excuse I needed to dip my toes back in again. This will be a slow burn, but patient readers may eventually be rewarded with smut.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The clock struck three in the morning. Hermione reflexively glanced upward, knowing she’d regret it.</p>
<p>Across the round white face, curling black script unfurled: <em>Bit late for you to still be in the office, isn’t it?</em></p>
<p>She sighed. The clock, a Christmas present from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, was supposed to give her helpful reminders on the hour. (Arthur explained excitedly, “Like those Muggle eckeltric calendars with the Lookout popups.”) Nod to Muggle technology or not, Hermione detected rather more of Molly’s influence in the gift. Given the Weasleys’ grandfather clock, the symbolism was too heavy handed to ignore. Hermione hadn’t failed to notice within the first day of mounting the clock in her office that most of its reminders, especially after five o’clock, focused on scolding her for not paying more attention to her home life.</p>
<p>Charming the wretched thing silent had been the easy part. It was harder to ignore the literal writing on the wall.</p>
<p>As Deputy Minister of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hermione was no stranger to long hours. She’d been working like this since she was eleven. She refused to be bullied into Molly Weasley’s ideals of domesticity.</p>
<p>“And besides,” she muttered, “my Head Auror has yet to invent a spell to make these files read themselves.”</p>
<p>Perish the thought that Harry would ever read them himself, at least in a timely fashion. Half of these perpetrators would be in Timbuktu by the time he got around to them. Perhaps it was time for her to have another chat with him.</p>
<p>She arrested that train of thought, nipping her uncharitable thoughts in the bud. Harry <em>had</em> taken her nudge to heart. Between leading an investigation into magical interference with Muggle elections and the arrival of his second child, he was stretched thin these days.</p>
<p>Like she was herself. Lack of sleep always made her grumpy. Caffeine would help. She reached blearily for her mug. It was empty.</p>
<p>Another witch would have summoned a house elf for more tea, but Hermione made it a policy to disturb them for nothing after midnight. Perhaps she should go home after all.</p>
<p>With a flick of her wand, her papers jumped neatly into files and cabinets, quills and ink bottles flew into drawers, and scattered mugs and plates neatly resolved themselves into one stack so that the house elves could easily pick them up. Her purse was zipping itself shut when a hesitant rap sounded at her door, rapidly followed by two more assertive knocks.</p>
<p>Wand out, wits suddenly sharp as sunlight, Hermione demanded, “Who is it?”</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I suggest you see for yourself.”</p>
<p>“I’m warning you, I am about to summon the Ministry guards!”</p>
<p>“Don’t be idiotic. Since you won’t open the door, I’m going to come in so we can speak properly. Kindly do not hex me, Miss Granger.”</p>
<p>Hermione nearly dropped her wand. She recognized that voice.</p>
<p>“Professor,” she said, as if in a trance. The door swung open and she came face to face with Severus Snape.</p>
<p>He loomed over her, his pale face stark against the darkness of his hair and robes. Save for the lattice of scars at his throat and the trepidation in his eyes, he looked exactly as she remembered him. For a moment, she was a child again, and he was the authority figure whom she had never been able to impress.</p>
<p>But Snape was dead, of course, and this was an impostor.</p>
<p>Snape, or whoever he was, pocketed his wand and closed the door quickly behind him. The moment passed. This was her office, and she was in charge here. She pointed her wand at him.</p>
<p>“Who are you? Explain quickly or you may lose the opportunity.”</p>
<p> “You surely haven’t forgotten the six miserable years you spent under my tutelage.”</p>
<p>A touch of familiar scorn laced his voice. No one taught by the man could ever forget the sound of his sneer, though he spoke with greater deliberation than before, as if speaking were difficult.</p>
<p>“Severus Snape is dead. I watched him die myself.”</p>
<p>“I remember dying,” he said. “When I woke up a few days ago, my last memory was of bleeding on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. I don’t understand how I’ve come to be here.”</p>
<p>“What were your last words?”</p>
<p>They had never told anyone, out of respect for Snape’s memory. Harry had insisted on it.</p>
<p>“Look at me.”</p>
<p>Hermione’s hands started trembling violently. She lowered her wand.</p>
<p>“How—how?”</p>
<p>“That’s what I intend to find out.” Snape leaned over her desk, gripping the edges. Hermione stepped backward involuntarily, trying to gain some distance from his burning eyes. “I require your help.”</p>
<p>At these words, Hermione straightened her spine. She had never been able to resist an assignment.</p>
<p>Snape’s appearance in her office rated amongst the top three biggest shocks she’d witnessed (and she’d seen a lot in her lifetime), but she’d been handling crises since the beginning of her magical education and now it was her full-time job. Her mind was already working furiously away on the problem of Severus Snape.</p>
<p>“You’ll have to start from the beginning. When and where did you wake up? Don’t leave out any details, I need--,”</p>
<p>Snape held up a hand. “I <em>don’t</em> miss teaching you. Before you release a torrent of questions, shall we move somewhere more secure?”</p>
<p>“More secure than my office?”</p>
<p>“The wards on your office are… adequate. The Gringotts goblins could learn a thing or two from you on protecting their vaults. Nevertheless, I managed to break in here.”</p>
<p>Hermione suspected, but couldn’t believe, that a compliment been hidden amongst those barbs.</p>
<p>“In short, while I believe your office to be secure in the ordinary course of affairs, it is also an extraordinarily public place. I’d prefer to speak somewhere more secluded.”</p>
<p>“It’s 3 AM! Who do you think is going to be barging in here besides you at this time?”</p>
<p>“I realize you are married to—or perhaps still dating—Weasley,” said Snape, looking disdainfully between the framed portrait on Hermione’s desk and the absence of a ring on her finger, “but surely you didn’t have to give up your brains in exchange for that privilege? There is no shortage of wizards who would be interested in breaking into the Ministry at odd hours.”</p>
<p>The chances that one of them would choose the same exact night to break in as Snape seemed extremely low, but Hermione had the feeling that he was right. This was going to be a long conversation. It wouldn’t do to be found with Severus Snape in her office when the house elves started making their first rounds in the early morning.</p>
<p>“Right. What place is more secure? Where does nobody ever go?”</p>
<p>“My house.”</p>
<p>“How do you know it hasn’t been disturbed since your death?”</p>
<p>“I left it to Lucius in my will, along with the rest of my assets. He would have protected it from anyone else wishing to pry into my affairs, while never deigning to set foot in it himself.”</p>
<p>The choice intrigued Hermione. While Sirius had once described Snape as Lucius’s lapdog, she’d never seen any evidence that the two men were particularly close. The difference in their dispositions and stations in life rendered any friendship unlikely.</p>
<p>Despite her curiosity, she merely observed, “I seem to remember someone else leaving his assets to Lucius upon his supposed death, only to live to regret that bequest.”</p>
<p>“As flattering as it is to be compared to the Dark Lord, I don’t think Lucius would have felt the same urgency to dispose of my property that he exhibited with that diary. My house isn’t a Horcrux, you see.”</p>
<p>“Then by all means, lead the way.” What else could Hermione do in such a surreal situation, but assent?</p>
<p>Snape moved toward the fireplace and helped himself to the Floo powder on the mantelpiece. “We’ll have to go together. The wards only allow me and the guests who come with me.”</p>
<p>Hermione had never Flooed alongside anyone before. Snape had already stepped inside. He extended a hand to her.</p>
<p>Taking a deep breath, Hermione took his hand and squeezed into the fireplace beside him. She felt the whole length of his body pressed uncomfortably against her right side. She hadn’t been in such close physical proximity to a man other than Ron since dancing with Viktor at the Yule Ball.</p>
<p>“Spinner’s End,” said Snape. Hermione’s vision went up in green flames. Her last, slightly delirious thought before she spun out of her office was that she was going to have a hell of a time explaining to Ron why she’d spent the night at Snape’s house.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Welcome Back to the Land of the Living</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>While this story contains some (highly fictionalized) discussion of recent political events, this is intended to be a fun romp, not a manifesto. That said, my own views will become apparent, so fair warning if political topics are likely to offend you. </p><p>I’ve written the first seven chapters at this point and hope to update regularly until they’re all up. Afterward, the posting schedule will depend on my ability to stay disciplined. Originally, I’d wanted to hold on publishing this until the entire story was complete, but I needed a fun distraction during this pandemic. Hope this story can provide the same for others!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione emerged from Snape’s fireplace into utter darkness.</p><p>“<em>Lumos</em>,” he said behind her. One by one, a number of shaded table lamps lit up around the perimeter of the sitting room, casting a warm glow over their surroundings.</p><p>The first things Hermione saw were his books. Bookshelves lined the walls, each one fully stacked from floor to ceiling.  His collection ran the gamut from Muggle-looking paperbacks to decidedly magical leather-bound volumes, some with their titles spelled out in gold lettering, some in runes she didn’t recognize, others with nothing printed on them at all. Despite the late hour and the strangeness of her situation, she couldn’t help wondering what organizational system Snape used for his library. She had put a lot of thought into designing her own system, but had never had the chance to compare notes with anyone else. No one else owned as many books as she did; no one except, apparently, Snape.</p><p>Unable to help herself, she drew up to a shelf of Arithmancy reference volumes and ran her eyes avidly over their spines. This evidence of interest in a subject other than potions or the dark arts, on such a technical level, surprised her. But of course a man of his intellect would have varied interests. It occurred to her that she had never before had such an intimate glimpse into Snape’s life. Harry had always been the one who had unearthed Snape’s secrets.</p><p>“I take it you approve,” the man himself said dryly behind her.</p><p>“Can I just say how bizarre it is that you remind me of myself?”</p><p>Snape gave an odd movement that, if not for its grace, would have been a shudder. “Though you may have forgotten, given the company you keep, you are hardly the only person who has figured out how to open a book.”</p><p>The rest of the sitting room pleased her as much as the bookshelves. A couple of rather worn, but comfortable looking armchairs and a sofa were arranged in a cozy semicircle around the fireplace. The overall effect gave the impression that Snape entertained frequently. Hermione knew that couldn’t have been the case, even before his soi-disant death, but the image cheered her all the same.</p><p>“Have a seat. Would you like anything to drink? Wine?”</p><p>Maybe she had been wrong about Snape’s entertaining habits after all. Years ago, Hermione would have gawped at the idea of Snape offering hospitality with practiced ease. Now, in her late twenties, Hermione merely raised an eyebrow and said, “The strongest tea you have, please. I suspect we’re going to be up a while, and it’s already past my bedtime.”</p><p>“Tea it is.” Snape made a small gesture with his non-wand hand in the direction of what she guessed was the kitchen. The gurgling sound of water coming to boil followed shortly.</p><p>“How do you take your tea?”</p><p>“Black.”</p><p>Snape nodded, rising and heading toward the kitchen. He returned bearing a steaming teapot and two bone china cups on a tray. Hermione wished she’d had a camera to capture the moment. She settled for carefully filing the image away in a cherished place, right next to her memory of boggart Snape dressed in Neville’s grandmother’s clothes.</p><p>As the odd parody of domesticity continued to unfold, with Snape delicately pouring them both Earl Grey, Hermione couldn’t help smiling at the absurdity of her situation. Where would she find herself next—taking tea at Malfoy Manor with Lucius?</p><p>Snape took a small sip of his tea, rolling it around in his mouth for a while before swallowing it.</p><p>“Do you know how many years it’s been since I’ve had tea?”</p><p>“Ten.”</p><p>Ten years since he had died. Ten years since the Battle of Hogwarts. She’d never lose count.</p><p>He nodded. “Even if I hadn’t known the date, I could have guessed that much time had passed just from looking at you.”</p><p>The hurt must have flashed in her eyes, for he quickly caught himself. “I didn’t say that to be cruel, Granger. You wear your years well. Magical law enforcement isn’t an easy job. At first, I didn’t think much time had passed since the battle. I don’t appear to have aged at all.”</p><p>It was true. Besides the scarring, Hermione could see no difference in the man before her and her old Potions professor. She and Snape must be close to the same age now. The thought unnerved her.</p><p>Death had apparently mellowed Snape out. She had never known him to pass up an opportunity to insult her. Her appearance hadn’t been off limits even when she had been fourteen. Yet he had just paid her a compliment.</p><p>“I noticed immediately that drastic changes had taken place all over Diagon Alley. I didn’t recognize half the stores. When I found out what year it was, I decided to lie low for a while. I needed to learn what had happened in the intervening years before I revealed myself to anyone.”</p><p>“When did you wake up?”</p><p>“About a week ago. I was in a Gringotts vault, where, presumably, is not where I was buried.”</p><p> “You were buried on Hogwarts’ grounds. Harry insisted on a hero’s funeral.”</p><p>“So I gathered from the papers. You and Potter gave eulogies.  Small mercy that Weasley abstained.”</p><p>Hermione found Snape’s sarcasm oddly comforting. For the first time that night, she was on familiar footing.</p><p>“It was an honor,” she said frankly. “Apart from Dumbledore, no one else could speak to your heroism. And all we had was a half hour’s worth of memories, when you had given your entire adult life in service to the Order.”</p><p>“Apparently, you all were so busy assuaging your consciences during the funeral that someone was able to move my body without being detected.”</p><p>“Harry personally cast the wards on your tomb. We were afraid that there were those who might bear grudges against you. People who might try to deface your remains.”</p><p>Snape cast his eyes heavenward. “I would almost rather be dead than endure Potter’s <em>gratitude</em>. If only he could have defeated the Dark Lord without needing to see my memories. In any case, as touching as his gesture was, my tomb was undoubtedly less well protected than your office. Recall that I taught Potter for six years. I know his abilities.”</p><p>“Okay, so who moved your body? When? And why? They clearly meant you no ill. You’re in perfectly good shape. And they left your wand on your person.”</p><p>“I thought I might find a clue in the vault, but the owner hadn’t left much in it. Besides my coffin, there were a few chests containing gold and jewels, but these were unremarkable given the size of the vault. I found no identifying objects whatsoever <em>inside</em>.”</p><p>“How did you get out?” Hermione, who knew more about breaking out of Gringotts than almost anybody else alive, was keenly interested.</p><p>“I had much less trouble than the three of you did. I simply walked out.”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“I touched the door while trying to determine what sort of enchantments it held. It melted away, as if it recognized the owner of the vault. But it wasn’t my vault. The outside of the door bore an engraved ouroboros.”</p><p>“A serpent devouring its tail… it’s one of the oldest symbols of rebirth,” Hermione murmured.</p><p>“If you’re going to regurgitate textbook definitions like the obnoxious swot I used to teach, you might as well do it properly and preface your statements by waving your raised hand in my face.”</p><p>Hermione colored, but noticed that Snape’s smirk lacked malice. He was teasing her. Would the evening’s wonders never cease?</p><p>“While you’ve accurately summarized what an ouroboros <em>is</em>, let me tell you what it isn’t. It isn’t the family crest of any extant pureblood family. I checked the most prominent extinct families, for that matter, and it didn’t match any of those either.”</p><p>“That doesn’t surprise me. Whoever had you probably didn’t want to broadcast their identity in case—well, in case <em>this</em> happened.  How did you get out past that point? We had to fight past all sorts of enchantments—not to mention a dragon—when we left Bellatrix’s vault.”</p><p>“I expected danger as well, but a cart simply rolled up and carried me to the ground floor without incident. The lobby was empty. It was late at night. My first thought was to find safety—and then, answers. I came here. This was the one place I felt assured of. Over the next couple of weeks, I stole hundreds, if not thousands, of back issues of the <em>Daily Prophet</em>, trying to figure out what had happened since my death. I even read Rita Skeeter.” His face twisted into a look of deep disgust.</p><p>“If it makes you feel better, after she published that trash about you, Harry wrote a review exposing every single one of her lies in the <em>Daily Prophet</em>.”</p><p>“Enough about Potter, if you please.” He seemed genuinely discomfited by Harry’s public gestures of gratitude, which amused Hermione.</p><p>“Did you know that he just had a baby? It’s his second child, another boy.” She couldn’t help herself. Harry would never have given Al his name if either of the boy’s namesakes were still alive.</p><p>“Is this relevant?”</p><p>“He named his son Albus Severus.”</p><p>Snape said nothing at first. He looked away toward the fireplace. The revelation had clearly affected, maybe even upset him. For one horrible second, Hermione thought he was about to say something cruel, as he would have in her youth.</p><p>Instead, he limited himself to mildly remarking, “If Mrs. Potter agreed to this, she’s changed considerably since her school days. She wasn’t known for such forbearance at Hogwarts, but I suppose being married to Potter would teach one patience.”</p><p>His gaze abruptly swung back to Hermione. “And how has being with Mr. Weasley altered <em>you</em>? I’m surprised you haven’t followed Potter’s example and married.”</p><p>“We digress,” said Hermione firmly, not wanting to discuss Ron with Snape, and even less interested in analyzing her reasons for wanting to avoid the subject. “Go on with your story.”</p><p>The corners of his lips quirked, but he obliged. “I returned to Gringotts at one point, in disguise. I questioned a goblin to obtain what information I could from him. He would not—or could not—tell me whose vault I had been in. I couldn’t extract that from him without causing irreparable damage. In the end, I modified his memory and decided to come to you.”</p><p>“I’m flattered, of course. But why me?”</p><p>“You’re the cleverest witch of your generation and a rising star in the Ministry to boot. Who do you suggest could be more helpful?”</p><p>“Lucius, maybe. You must trust him to some degree—you left him your house, after all.”</p><p>“I pity whoever is foolish enough to turn to Lucius Malfoy as his first choice for help of any kind. As bountiful as the Malfoy coffers may still be, he has fewer means at his disposal than you do. The Malfoy name surely doesn’t carry the same weight it once did. I left Lucius my house for the simple reason that I wanted no one to go through my personal effects after my death, and I trusted Lucius to be completely uninterested in my meager possessions.”</p><p>Hermione wondered what personal effects Snape could possibly have worth concealing, if they really were so meager, but kept the question to herself. “It could have been his vault you were in.”</p><p>“Yes. That remains the most likely possibility. There are few families in Britain wealthy enough to possess a vault of that size. Eventually, I may need to approach Lucius. But I had another reason for coming to you. I suspect that my sudden resurrection has something to do with the story I read in the <em>Daily Prophet</em> involving your department’s efforts to combat magical fraud in Muggle elections. It undoubtedly presented a very watered down version of the events.”</p><p>He steepled his fingers, looking expectantly at her. Hermione felt almost as if she were a student in his classroom again and he had asked her to name the ingredients of a sleeping draught.</p><p>She began to recount the details of what had happened, giving particular clarity to the facts that hadn’t made it into the papers. Snape listened in silence.</p><p>In the years following Voldemort’s fall, the Auror Office had aggressively hunted the remaining Death Eaters and their sympathizers. The most notorious characters—Greyback, Yaxley, the Carrows—had all been captured at or shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts. This was due in no small part to Lucius Malfoy’s cooperation with the Aurors. The information he provided had kept him out of Azkaban. But it remained a thorn in the Ministry’s side that Lucius’s brother-in-law, Rodolphus Lestrange, one of the most dangerous and fanatical Death Eaters of all, remained at large. Some in the Ministry suspected Lucius was shielding Lestrange, given their family ties. A few maintained Lucius should be thrown in Azkaban anyway, until he produced information leading to Lestrange’s capture. At Hermione’s urging, Hestia Jones (her boss, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement) held firm on treating Lucius fairly.</p><p>“You’ve forgiven Lucius, then? I know you were tortured at Malfoy Manor.”</p><p>“It was a matter of principle. Who would ever cooperate with the Ministry again if we threw him in jail despite all the evidence he had already given?”</p><p>The truth was that Hermione wasn’t sure if she had forgiven the Malfoys. It didn’t matter that Narcissa had lied to Voldemort to save Harry, which had led to Harry publicly advocating pardoning the Malfoys. It didn’t matter that Draco, who worked in the Ministry’s Department of Magical Games and Sports, was now on polite, even friendly, terms with Harry as a result of Harry’s advocacy. And it definitely didn’t matter that whenever Hermione had been present at Lucius’s questioning, he had been infallibly courteous to her, even demonstrating something akin to remorse.</p><p>“At any rate, it became apparent to me that Lucius’s attachment to his family didn’t extend past his wife and son. He viewed Lestrange with the same contempt he felt for Bellatrix, minus the fear.”</p><p>“He said as much to you?”</p><p>“I asked Lucius to share his memories of Lestrange with me through a Pensieve.”</p><p>Hermione was nothing if not thorough, especially in matters of national security. At Snape’s raised eyebrow, a pang of remorse shot through her. Harry, of all people, had raised concerns about the ethics of asking Lucius to share his memories. It was one thing for someone to voluntarily share their memories via Pensieve for personal reasons, but quite another for a Ministry official to request private citizens to upload their experiences for her scrutiny. Hermione’s boss had requested a formal memo from Ministry lawyers afterward, to establish the legality of such a measure, but the fact that such an action had been deemed necessary didn’t reassure Hermione as to the correctness of her actions. Lucius had acquiesced without protest, but it did set a bad precedent that she hoped not to continue.</p><p>“Far be it from me to discourage the use of Pensieves,” Snape said silkily, “but I have known only two people to demand access to the memories of others.” He left unspoken the fact that those two people were his former masters. “It didn’t suffice to question him? You could have used Veritaserum.”</p><p>“All due respect, sir, you know that Veritaserum can be resisted. And the truth produced by Veritaserum still depends on the drinker’s perception of reality. I think it’s clear that Lucius Malfoy and I don’t see the world through the same lenses. Direct access to his memories gave me more objective information than I could have gotten by interviewing him.”</p><p>Heat rose in Hermione’s cheeks. Of all things, Snape was going to question her about this?</p><p>“You’re second in command at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” he said in a perfectly bland tone. “You may conduct your job as you see fit. And you needn’t address me as <em>sir,</em> given how long it’s been since I taught you.”</p><p>She didn’t realize she had let the honorific slip. They were equals now in nearly every respect, including age and ability. But Snape had always been the ultimate authority figure—the teacher she had never been able to please, the wizard whose intellect she had respected despite whatever else she thought of him. Taking the brunt of his criticism rekindled one of Hermione’s oldest drives: the urge to ingratiate herself and win approval.</p><p>“Point taken, Severus.” A strange thrill ran through her as she said his given name.</p><p>“Continue your story.”</p><p>“For the past five years or so, those of us who follow the Muggle news have noticed disturbing trends in their politics. Resurgences of moribund extremist groups, unpredictable election results, increasingly violent rhetoric. Anyone who paid attention in History of Magic knows that Muggle political instability has traditionally coincided with turbulence in the Wizarding world.”</p><p>Snape muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Just you, then.”</p><p>“The Muggle and Wizarding worlds aren’t as neatly separated as most purebloods would like to believe. Unrest on one side often spills over to the other. Take Grindelwald’s rise and the Muggle Second World War, for example. But the Wizarding World has been enjoying the highest levels of peace and prosperity that we’ve known since Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald.”</p><p>“So you suspect foul play.”</p><p>“Naturally. Voldemort’s brand of total war on the Muggles failed.  Doesn’t it make sense that another Dark wizard might seek to destroy the Muggle world through other means? Perhaps even by manipulating them into self-destruction.”</p><p>“Your theory sounds dramatic, but unsubstantiated.”</p><p>“We’ve been looking for evidence. Last week, we made a major breakthrough. I had Harry investigate the results of the last major election in Britain. The Muggles vote on slips of paper called ballots. After an election’s over, they keep the millions and millions of pieces of paper in a government vault.  Harry’s team broke into this vault and discovered that many of the votes cast for the winning referendum were magical duplicates created by the <em>Geminio</em> spell. The Lestranges’ vault at Gringotts was also protected by the <em>Geminio</em> spell when we broke into it during the war, by the way. I suspect this activity is happening in the States now. We don’t yet have proof, though it makes sense Lestrange would flee Britain. But speaking of dramatic and unsubstantiated, what could all of this possibly have to do with you coming back?”</p><p>“Potter found this evidence last week, and I wake up in a Gringotts vault at the same time. The vault may belong to Lucius Malfoy. Lucius’s brother-in-law is your number one suspect in this Muggle election interference fiasco. These are interesting coincidences.”</p><p>“I don’t believe in coincidences.”</p><p>“I didn’t either, but observing you and your friends over the years taught me the power of sheer dumb luck, which is not so different,” Snape said dryly.</p><p>Hermione tried to scowl but was interrupted by a yawn. The clock over Snape’s mantelpiece (which was mercifully free of chiding messages) now read a quarter to four.</p><p>“I apologize for approaching you so late at night,” Snape began. Hermione never thought she’d see the day Snape would apologize to her. The past ten years had certainly changed the man, even if he had been dead for most of them.</p><p>“How did you know I’d be in the office?” Hermione interrupted, suddenly curious. “I’m aware of my reputation, but I promise you I’m at home in bed at this hour more often that not.”</p><p>“That may be,” said Snape. “I suspected that between dealing with the election crisis and staffing shortages due to the holidays, you would likely be at work until midnight at least.”</p><p>“So you decided that strolling in three hours past midnight was just as good a time as any?”</p><p>“It may have taken me longer than I expected to reach your office,” Snape said evasively.</p><p>Hermione felt a flush of unexpected pleasure at Snape’s admission. Unlike its Muggle counterpart, the Ministry employed no security guards after hours, relying instead on a complex web of protective spells. Naturally, Hermione had cast additional wards on her own office. Granting that Snape might be rusty from being years out of practice, it was still a source of pride to think that it had taken a wizard of his caliber the better part of three hours to undo her enchantments.</p><p>“I won’t keep you much longer. However, we need to plan our next steps.”</p><p>“We” was a bit rich, but Hermione supposed she was already waist-deep in the problem of Severus Snape.</p><p>“What did you have in mind?”</p><p>“The obvious place to start is the Gringotts vault.”</p><p>“But you already talked to a goblin.”</p><p>“I had to try. But I didn’t honestly expect to get any answers out of them. You might as well try breaking <em>into</em> Gringotts.” Snape paused meaningfully. “Which, I believe, you and your friends are the only people to have successfully done in the past hundred years.”</p><p>“You surely aren’t suggesting that the Deputy Head of Magical Law Enforcement break into Gringotts?”</p><p>“Preferably, you’d have Potter and Weasley’s assistance.”</p><p>“I’m sure Ron and Harry are dying to do this again. Why does it sound like you’re not planning to come?”</p><p>“If three’s company, what would four be?” Snape asked rhetorically. “There’s no need for us to concentrate all our efforts in one area.”</p><p>“What are you going to be doing in the meantime, as I’ve obviously got the easy task?”</p><p>“My old job.” Snape’s expression was inscrutable. “I’m going to spy on Death Eaters.”</p><p>“You might actually get some answers that way. What am I supposed to be looking for in this vault? You said you already examined everything in there.”</p><p>“As I mentioned, I never had a vault like that at Gringotts. But the door recognized my touch. To key a Gringott’s vault to someone who is not the owner takes powerful magic. I want you to examine the spellwork—something I had neither the time nor the energy for.”</p><p>Something about Snape’s statements didn’t quite add up. He had never been one to leave his dirty work to others, and he had barely even bothered to offer a pretext as to why he couldn’t accompany them into Gringotts.</p><p>“Why not talk to Lucius? You as good as know it’s his vault.”</p><p>“And if it’s not his?” Snape asked, curling his lip. “What if Lucius isn’t as reformed as he appears to be? Do you realize how Voldemort’s followers would react if they found out the Death Eater who double crossed them was still alive?”</p><p>Exasperatingly, Snape did have a point there. Hermione was exhausted and Snape was in no immediate danger, so the appropriate next step seemed to be getting a good night’s sleep before figuring out what to do about Snape.</p><p>“I need to get back. I make no promises about convincing Harry and Ron to break into Gringotts with me for the second time. But I will do anything else in my power to assist you.”</p><p>Snape’s brow contracted, but he relented. “Fine. If you do talk to Potter and Weasley, make sure this doesn’t go beyond the three of you.”</p><p>Hermione rose from her seat. “Agreed. We would never be cavalier with your safety. Not this time.”</p><p>Snape cleared his throat awkwardly. Hermione felt the urge to preen. She’d made <em>Snape</em> feel uncomfortable twice in as many hours. <em>Fifty points to Gryffindor</em>, she crowned inwardly.</p><p>“We’ll talk soon. I’ll send an owl.”</p><p>“No owls. I don’t want them seen coming and going from Spinners’ End. Use this instead.” He pulled a black leather-bound diary from a bookshelf and handed it to her. “I have a matching diary. When one of us writes in it, the other person will be able to see. I’ve enchanted it so that if anyone should happen to find yours, they’ll see nothing but appointments and to-do lists.”</p><p>“And if anyone finds yours?”</p><p>“Potions recipes. I have no appointments or to-do lists, as I’m supposed to be dead.”</p><p>A vision of Snape’s spiky handwriting (<em>this is the property of the Half-Blood Prince</em>) flashed through Hermione’s mind. A second wave of déjà vu followed on its heels.</p><p>“This reminds me of Voldemort’s diary horcrux.”</p><p>Snape smiled thinly. “He was a great wizard. It’s not the first thing I’ve learned from him.”</p><p>Hermione tucked the diary into her bag, suppressing a shudder of revulsion.</p><p>“We’ll speak later, then.” She took a handful of Floo and moved into the fireplace. Before she left, she met Snape’s eyes. “By the way—it’s good to have you back, Severus.”</p><p>Snape inclined his head slightly. “Till next time, Miss Granger.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Four's a Crowd</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once home, Hermione transfigured her work robes into pajamas before creeping into her bedroom. Ron was, fortunately, a heavy sleeper. She would just slip into bed next to him and pretend in the morning that she had come home right after he had fallen asleep.</p>
<p>The lights flew on. Ron sat up, looking grouchy.</p>
<p>“Where have you <em>been</em>?”</p>
<p>“Work—had a lot to do today.”</p>
<p>“Hermione, it’s four in the morning. I know you’re helping run the country, but you’re allowed to sleep.”</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry, it’s just—the most incredible thing happened tonight, I’m still reeling over it.” It was on the tip of her tongue, but she shrank back at the moment of actually mentioning Snape.</p>
<p>Ron flopped back onto the pillows. “Let me guess, you wrote a policy proposal so good that they’ll have no choice but to make you the youngest Minister of Magic in a century.”</p>
<p>“Something like that. Go back to sleep. I’ll make it up to you in the morning. How does French toast sound?”</p>
<p>“Sounds amazing. My wife, a brilliant witch <em>and</em> cook.” Ron kissed her on the nose and fell asleep again almost immediately.</p>
<p>Affection swelled within her, though a small part of her brain wondered why Ron hadn’t bothered trying to reach her. In the early days of their relationship, he would always send an owl if she wasn’t back from work by dinnertime. What kind of man didn’t care whether his partner came home at night or not? Did they spend so much time apart now that it didn’t matter where she was? The thought might have saddened her, but she was so tired that she too fell asleep within minutes.</p>
<p>When Hermione awoke a few hours later to get ready for work, she regretted the offer of breakfast. But she couldn’t break her word to Ron after lying about where she had been the previous night. She made only one serving, skipping breakfast herself to save time. She cast a stasis charm on the plate to keep it hot. Ron was still asleep when she left.</p>
<p> --</p>
<p>At work, Hermione found it difficult to concentrate on the case files she hadn’t finished last night, though she had a meeting coming up with Harry to review them. She had intended to get him up to speed and transition the files to him, with a gentle reminder that it was his job to cover them, not hers.  After six years of letting him copy her essays at school, she felt it was high time that the Boy Who Lived stand on his own two feet.   </p>
<p>But all she could think about was discussing Snape with Harry.  She struggled to articulate to herself why she hadn’t told Ron. Snape had told her to enlist Ron’s help with Gringotts, yet she felt no desire to raise the topic with him. At last, she told herself she was looking into Snape’s problem as a matter of professional interest. As Head Auror, Harry was one of her closest colleagues. On the other hand, Ron worked in George’s joke shop. Work-life separation allowed—nay, demanded—that she keep Ron out of this.</p>
<p>Snape’s diary lay innocently where she had tossed it on her desk. She glanced at it briefly, then returned to the files in her hands. Or tried to. The diary seemed to suddenly exert a magnetic pull on her. She stared at it. The insistent tug at her attention bespoke a basic “notice-me” spell.</p>
<p>Marveling absentmindedly at the elegance of Snape’s magic, Hermione opened the diary. A message appeared on the first page in the spiky handwriting she recognized from the Half-Blood Prince’s copy of <em>Advanced Potions Making</em>.</p>
<p>
  <em>By the way, the vault number was 734.</em>
</p>
<p>Snape’s sardonic tone fairly dripped from the written words. She snapped the diary closed with irritation. How like Snape to treat the Gringotts break-in as a done deal, when Hermione had explicitly said <em>no promises</em>.</p>
<p>“Finally met a book you didn’t like?”</p>
<p>Harry was grinning at her from the door to her office.</p>
<p>“More like I’m annoyed with the author. Come in, and close the door.”</p>
<p>Harry did so and took a seat, eyeing the files lying on Hermione’s desk. His expression turned sheepish. “Look, Hermione, I know what this is about and I’m sorry. Between Al and this Muggle election stuff, I’ve let routine cases slip. It’s not your job to stay on top of me, with everything else you’ve got going on. Just give me a few days to catch up, and you’ll never have to think about these files again.”</p>
<p>His sincerity touched Hermione. “Let’s forget these files for now,” she said hastily. “I actually wanted to ask for your help with a bit of the ‘everything else.’”</p>
<p>“What’s up? You look exhausted,” said Harry, leaning forward to peer at her. “Like me after I’ve had a rough night with Al.”</p>
<p>Hermione took a deep breath. “Snape is alive.”</p>
<p>“<em>What</em>?” Harry goggled at her.</p>
<p>Wordlessly, she opened the diary to the front page and handed it to Harry. The shock of recognition flashed in his eyes.</p>
<p>“Write something to him.”</p>
<p>“You can’t be serious.”</p>
<p>She passed him a quill. “Try it.”</p>
<p>“Is this like Tom Riddle’s diary?” he asked incredulously.</p>
<p>“That’s what I said,” she replied dryly. “He did work with Voldemort for a long time.”</p>
<p>Harry tentatively wrote “My name is Harry Potter” underneath Snape’s handwriting.</p>
<p>Almost immediately, words began appearing on the page in response.</p>
<p>
  <em>Tolerable, as far as names go. Pity I can’t say the same of your second-born. </em>
</p>
<p>Harry dropped the quill with a clatter. “How did he survive?” After a brief pause, he added, “You told him about Al?”</p>
<p>Hermione couldn’t repress a giggle. “It’s surprisingly easy to needle him. Just make a fuss over him being a war hero. As for how he survived—we’re working on that.”</p>
<p>She launched into the tale of the prior night’s events, including Snape’s request that they investigate the Gringotts vault. Harry sat in stunned silence. Hermione began to worry. Despite herself, she had come around to Snape’s views that Gringotts was the right place to start, and had been counting on Harry’s support for the plan.</p>
<p>“What does Ron think?” Harry asked at last.</p>
<p>“I didn’t have a good opportunity to bring it up,” she said, not without a faint prickle of guilt. “I was planning to tell him later today.”</p>
<p>“Your self-control is unreal.” Harry shook his head. “If it had been me last night, I would have come home screaming to wake the dead. Which is how Ginny sleeps these days, mind you, once she’s managed to put the kids to bed. Can I see him?”</p>
<p>“Ron?”</p>
<p>“No, Snape.”</p>
<p>“Oh—yes, of course. Strangely enough, he might actually be happy to see you. Death seems to have changed him.”</p>
<p>“I think I know how that feels,” said Harry thoughtfully. “When were you planning to go to Gringotts?”</p>
<p>Hermione smiled at Harry, relieved at his enthusiasm. “The sooner, the better. But the other thing is… Snape doesn’t want to come with us to Gringotts. He wouldn’t give me a straight answer why, but he seemed to think it was better if it was just the three of us. I don’t think it’s a trap, but I can’t think why he wouldn’t want to be there.”</p>
<p>“You verified that he really is Snape?”</p>
<p>“Yes, he repeated his last words to you. No one else could know that.”</p>
<p>“Knowing Snape, he has a good reason for not wanting to come. I’d like to know what it is, but I won’t refuse to help him just because he’s keeping some things to himself right now.”  </p>
<p>Harry had a point. But from the excitement sparkling in his eyes, Hermione guessed that Harry found the real appeal of Snape’s proposal lay in the element of rule-breaking. She’d long suspected part of Harry resented becoming part of the establishment, and missed the sneaking around of their youth. If she were honest with herself, she missed it too.</p>
<p>“Right, we should start making plans,” Hermione said briskly. “Come over to our place after work; we’ll talk to Ron.”</p>
<p>“Yes!” Harry crowed, pumping his fists. “Just like old times.”</p>
<p>They both looked at the diary then. Hermione knew Harry felt the same compulsion. He looked questioningly at her.</p>
<p>Hermione nodded. “It does that when he’s got a message for us.”</p>
<p>Harry opened the diary, chuckled, and slid it across to Hermione.</p>
<p>
  <em>Potter, have you convinced Granger yet that the importance of investigating Gringotts outweighs her fetish for following the rules? As I recall, you didn’t have any trouble with this in your school days.</em>
</p>
<p>Hermione took up her quill and penned a response.</p>
<p>
  <em>Let’s talk at my house tonight at 7. Floo to 25 Thistlewick Place.</em>
</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Having set the meeting time, Hermione should have foreseen that her boss would of course stroll into her office at exactly a quarter to seven. The laws of time and space demanded it.</p>
<p> “Late night again, Hermione?”</p>
<p>In Hermione’s eyes, Hestia Jones possessed every quality of a perfect manager.  Fellow female in an overwhelmingly male Ministry, former member of the Order of the Phoenix, blindingly competent witch, and, perhaps most importantly of all, a kind woman who knew the importance of a well-timed offer of tea and biscuits. Her one failing, which Hermione was normally prepared to overlook, was a propensity for gossip.</p>
<p>“I was actually just packing up,” Hermione said hastily. Though she usually tolerated, and sometimes even enjoyed, a marathon dish session with Hestia, now was the worst possible time. Snape had been looming in her thoughts all day. At this point, she wouldn’t have been surprised if banners bearing his name in capital letters had started streaming from her ears. Fortunately, Hestia wasn’t known to be a talented Legilimens.</p>
<p>“Good woman,” said Hestia boisterously. “Topsy told me you were burning the midnight oil last night. We’ve got a lot on our plates with this Muggle election stuff, but there’s no need to pull two all nighters in a row.”</p>
<p>Topsy was the house elf assigned to their wing. Like many other house elves who encountered Hermione, she tended to do her work invisibly, out of fear of being offered clothes, a pay raise, or vacation time. Nervously, Hermione wondered when Topsy had come round, and what she had seen or heard.</p>
<p>“Not staying late tonight,” Hermione assured Hestia earnestly. “I’ve got dinner plans. Harry’s coming over, actually.”</p>
<p>At that, Hestia’s smile slipped a bit. “I know you’re on your way home, but Harry is actually what I wanted to discuss with you. Just give me a minute, and I’ll let you go.”</p>
<p>“What about Harry?” The last thing Hermione needed when she and Harry were plotting a break-in was for their mutual boss to subject him to heightened scrutiny.</p>
<p>Hestia’s eyes flickered to the case files on Hermione’s desk, which Harry had forgotten to take this morning. Her naturally pink cheeks flushed an even rosier hue.</p>
<p>“Well, the Piccadilly murders, for one thing. Those are one hundred percent the domain of the Auror Office. You and I have a more elevated mandate. Policy work isn’t always thrilling, but we do <em>not</em> have the bandwidth to help the Aurors close out individual cases. I worry you’re stretching yourself a bit thin.”  </p>
<p>“I’m so sorry,” Hermione blurted out, as the clock inched closer to seven o’clock. “Could I just send Harry a message letting him know I’ll be late?”</p>
<p>Without waiting for assent, Hermione sent her Patronus to Harry, wherever he was, with the message that she was going to be late and would he please make sure to head off any fireworks between Ron and Snape.</p>
<p>Hermione knew Aurors who wouldn’t enter a building before ascertaining at least three possible exits. She took that approach to life, although she looked for worst case scenarios instead of exits. Here, the worst case scenario, which was becoming more likely by the minute, involved Snape showing up in her fireplace before she or Harry arrived, and scaring the living daylights out of an unprepared Ron.</p>
<p>Hestia gave Hermione a concerned look. “I realize he’s one of your closest friends, but you’re technically his superior at work. You don’t have to pull rank on him, but he should understand if you’re late for dinner because you’ve been picking up his slack at the office.”</p>
<p>“I don’t have a problem pulling rank on Harry,” Hermione said, quite truthfully. “Actually, I was going over the files so I could catch him up—just a one-time favor given his new baby—and then I was going to hand them over to him for good.”</p>
<p>“Excellent. Then we’ll consider the matter closed.” Hestia switched topics abruptly. “The Potters had trouble finding a sitter?”</p>
<p>“Sorry?”</p>
<p>“Ginny’s not joining you tonight?”</p>
<p>The conversation was shifting dangerously, heading down corridors where Hestia’s prurient curiosity slithered like a ravening basilisk. A mirror would have come in handy for looking around the corners of their conversation, to reveal what dangerous questions loomed ahead. As it was, Hestia’s next questions nearly petrified Hermione.</p>
<p>“Ron won’t be there either, I take it? If he were, you’d just send your Patronus to him, not Harry.”</p>
<p>After one stunned second, Hermione attempted to hoist a smile onto her face. “It’s Harry’s turn for a break from the kids,” she lied. “Ron’s coming from the shop, so he’ll be joining a bit later.”</p>
<p>While Hermione trusted Hestia to have her best interests at heart, that trust had never yet been fully tested against Hestia’s urge to spread stories about their coworkers. So far it hadn’t been an issue, since Hermione had determinedly given Hestia no fodder. She did almost nothing but work, and had been romantically involved with Ron since their school days. The last thing she needed was for Hestia to suspect that she and Harry were having an affair. Rita Skeeter had already worn through all the patience Hermione possessed on that front nearly two decades ago.</p>
<p>“Well, it’s none of my business,” Hestia said jovially, turning to leave. “Sorry for keeping you! Have a good evening.”</p>
<p>Hermione returned the sentiment with false cheeriness, heart sinking slightly at the thought that she now had to keep tabs on potential rumors about her love life at the office. Just one more thing to add to her ongoing to-do list. Still, with only a few minutes remaining before the appointed hour, Hermione couldn’t afford the luxury of dwelling on office politics.</p>
<p>A wave of her wand sent her things flying into her purse, which neatly zipped itself up. As she finally escaped from her office at the fastest walk she could manage without actually running, Hermione felt the familiar tug of Snape’s diary insisting upon her attention.</p>
<p>“You can wait a few minutes,” she muttered to herself crossly. What did he want from her now? Strictly speaking, she wasn’t late. Yet. And given her hasty packing, the diary probably lay at the bottom of her bag. More precious minutes would be wasted if she had to find a concealed corner to dig it out and respond to his message. He could say whatever he needed to say to her directly very soon.</p>
<p>The fact that Snape was trying to reach her did make her nervous in spite of her irritation. Hermione broke into a run for the last few steps to one of the Ministry fireplaces. Before she even completed the Floo journey and emerged in her own fireplace, she heard raised voices competing with one another.</p>
<p>“I’m going to ask you one more time, who are you actually and why are you in Snape’s body?”</p>
<p>“Weasley, let us stop pretending that you could cast any spells capable of penetrating my defenses,” Snape said snidely.</p>
<p>Ron and Snape were pointing their wands at each other. From the unscathed condition of wizards and walls alike, Hermione deduced that neither man had started casting hexes yet. Harry was nowhere to be seen.</p>
<p>“Ron, put your wand down!” Hermione instinctively drew her own wand and leveled it at him, which she regretted almost immediately as Ron’s expression of anger morphed into wounded outrage. His wand hand dropped slackly to his side.</p>
<p>“Hermione, do you know what’s going on here?”</p>
<p>“Yes, he’s really Snape,” said Hermione, lowering her wand as she stepped out of the fireplace. She shot Snape a reproving look to indicate he should do the same.</p>
<p>“As if my cutting wit weren’t a dead giveaway,” he deadpanned, stowing his wand into his sleeve.</p>
<p>“It’s a long story,” Hermione said quickly, before Snape could find fresh avenues to insult Ron. She gave Ron a pleading look. “I’m sorry, I was going to tell you before he arrived, but I got held up at the office.”  </p>
<p>“This had better be bloody good,” Ron growled. “D’you realize how much of a shock it is to come home and find <em>Snape</em> in your living room?”</p>
<p>“I felt the same way last night,” Hermione assured him, trying to place herself squarely on Ron’s side. “I nearly hexed him myself.”</p>
<p>“Hold on,” said Ron. “Last night? This was the incredible thing that happened to you <em>last night</em>?”</p>
<p>“Like I said, it’s a long story. I wasn’t going to wake you up at four in the morning to tell you, and work was crazy today. I couldn’t find a good time to step away and Floo call you.”</p>
<p>Hermione gave Snape a repressive look to warn him not to jump in. Instead of the smirk she expected to see on his face, he gazed at her and Ron in a curiously impassive manner. On balance, she would have preferred the smirk. It would have given her more insight into what he was thinking.</p>
<p>At that moment, green flames shot up in the fireplace, announcing Harry’s arrival.</p>
<p>“Sorry, Hermione,” he panted, glasses slightly askew on his face. “I got your Patronus, but I was tied up with Al. Gin stepped out for a lie down and Al chose that exact moment to have explosive diarrhea. He sometimes has random bursts of magic when that’s happening, so I had to get him sorted out before I could make it over.”</p>
<p>Hermione noticed that Snape’s trademark smirk decided to finally make an appearance at Harry’s words. The sight of it triggered an irrepressible urge to smile in her.</p>
<p>Harry adjusted his glasses and looked around, eyes settling on Snape. “It’s an honor, sir,” he said, extending a hand which Snape accepted reflexively. He let Harry shake it enthusiastically, his smirk fading away to a somewhat bemused look.</p>
<p>“Severus will do,” he said. “I’ve already extended Miss Granger the privilege.”</p>
<p>Ron’s eyes were fairly popping out of his head. “You knew about him, too? Both of you are on a first name basis with Snape now?”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to call me sir, either,” said Snape silkily. “I see no reason to give you special treatment.”</p>
<p>Ron’s mouth worked furiously for a few seconds, but nothing came out. “Dinner,” he ground out at last.</p>
<p>“Dinner?” Hermione echoed, thinking she had misheard.</p>
<p>“We’re going to sit down and eat, and someone is going to tell me what the fuck is going on here.” Ron stomped toward the kitchen. At the threshold, he turned back and added, “You lot had better be fine with Pot Noodle because it’s the fastest thing I can think of.”</p>
<p>“Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier,” Harry apologized again, in a low voice so Ron couldn’t hear. “I don’t blame him for being mad. I’d probably feel the same way if Ginny invited a dead man over to our place without telling me.”</p>
<p>“If we must assign blame, you may point fingers at my incurable punctuality,” Snape said wryly.</p>
<p>“Yes, arrive fashionably late next time,” Hermione retorted.</p>
<p>“Next time? Are you extending a standing invite, then? Same time next week? I’ll bring wine.”</p>
<p>Hermione tried to glare at Snape, but a snort of laughter escaped her when she met the amused glance in his eyes.</p>
<p>“I did try to warn you,” he said, partially withdrawing his diary from his robes and tapping the corner. “I managed to get half a sentence out before your better half stormed in.”</p>
<p>“I was running down the halls of the Ministry! Fishing the diary out of the bottom of my purse would have just slowed me down. Send me a Patronus in future,” said Hermione. “Much more direct.”</p>
<p>Snape huffed and replaced the diary in his pocket. Hermione suddenly remembered what his Patronus had been. Was Snape sensitive to the reminder? The thought was oddly touching.</p>
<p>A slight lull in their conversation ensued, during which the faint sounds of chopping and sizzling drifted out from the kitchen.</p>
<p>“Shall I go help Ron?” offered Harry.</p>
<p>“No, let him do it. He makes food when he needs to cool down.”</p>
<p>“Also, it might not be the best thing for Weasley’s ego right now—implying that he needs help preparing instant noodles.”</p>
<p>Hermione rolled her eyes, determined not to laugh again. “You’re not exactly acting like someone who needs our cooperation.”</p>
<p>“My apologies. I’ll endeavor to behave more like a potted plant if that will win your sympathies.”</p>
<p>When had Snape gotten to be so funny? With each passing moment, Hermione found that she enjoyed his company more and more.</p>
<p>“Sit silently in a corner, in other words? Where was this Snape when we were in school?” asked Harry, whose mind was evidently running along the same lines as Hermione.</p>
<p>“You know perfectly well where I was: teaching dunderheads by day and thwarting Voldemort by night. Neither of which afforded me the luxury of sitting.”</p>
<p>It was Harry’s turn to laugh. He broke off abruptly at the sight of four steaming bowls floating out of the kitchen toward the dining table, followed by levitating spoons and napkins, and a still stormy-looking Ron.</p>
<p>“Eat up, you lot.”</p>
<p>An appetizing, savory scent enveloped them as they obligingly seated themselves at the table. The results of Ron’s cooking looked surprisingly good for something that came in dehydrated form. It looked like he’d added curry powder, shredded chicken, and coriander leaves. Hermione eschewed instant food when she had dinner duty, but she couldn’t deny that Ron had elevated it to an art form. It was one of the few Muggle inventions that he had instantly understood.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Ron. This looks great,” said Hermione.</p>
<p>“This is really good,” said Harry between mouthfuls. Even Snape apparently couldn’t find any insults. He merely nodding in polite assent, which was in and of itself a veritable paean to Ron’s cooking.</p>
<p>Somewhat mollified, Ron asked, “So, does feeding all of you get me an explanation or what?”</p>
<p>“Severus, do you want to start since it’s your story?” said Hermione. “Even Harry doesn’t know all of it.”</p>
<p>“Well, it begins with my death fifteen years ago on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, reports of which were apparently grossly exaggerated by the three of you…”</p>
<p>Snape’s tone turned serious as he moved rapidly to the events of a few weeks ago, describing Gringotts vault 734, his actions upon escaping, and his plans for uncovering who had moved his body. Hermione noticed that he reduced his description of their late-night encounter in her office to a couple of laconic sentences.</p>
<p>At this point, she took over the retelling. She wanted to make abundantly clear that no one had intended to exclude Ron, and that the only reason Harry had learned about Snape first was because he and Hermione had already had a meeting scheduled during the day at work.</p>
<p>“The plan is for us to infiltrate Gringotts next week,” Hermione concluded. “We’ll go in disguise, of course. We can pose as a couple from one of the wealthier pureblood families, since they’ll have a vault in the 700s.”</p>
<p>“Who’s we?” asked Ron.</p>
<p>“You and me, of course. Harry can fit by himself under the invisibility cloak. Severus will sit this one out as he tracks down some other leads.”</p>
<p>“Which makes sense because the deputy head of MLE can afford to be caught breaking into Gringotts?” Ron asked skeptically. “And the Head Auror?”</p>
<p>“We won’t be seen,” Harry chimed in, clearly too thrilled at the prospect of illicit activity to question the underlying logic. “We’ve done this before. It’ll be child’s play.”</p>
<p>“Mate, I’ve had enough of that kind of excitement for a lifetime.”</p>
<p>Ron had the grace to look Snape squarely in the eye and say, “Sorry, Snape. I don’t want to get involved. I won’t say a word to anyone, and I won’t stop you all from doing anything, but I’m done with this stuff.”</p>
<p>Hermione’s heart sank. She looked anxiously from Ron to Snape. Ron appeared tense; Snape impassive.</p>
<p>“Understood,” said Snape. “You are obviously under no obligation.”</p>
<p>That wasn’t true, Hermione thought suddenly. It wasn’t an understatement to say they owed their lives to Snape. Without his efforts, the Ministry would be a puppet government run by Voldemort through Pius Thicknesse, and Hogwarts little more than a Death Eater training ground.  </p>
<p>“You might be the smartest one out of us after all,” Harry said to Ron. He slurped down the remnants of his Pot Noodle. “After the first time, I thought I’d have to be completely insane to try to break into Gringotts again. Look where we are now. And Hermione’s obviously as mad as I am.”</p>
<p>“My boyfriend, the genius.” Hermione tried to keep the sadness out of her voice. Next to her, Snape shifted almost imperceptibly in his seat. For a wild second, Hermione thought he was going to touch her, maybe put his arm around her or his hand on her shoulder. He didn’t, however.</p>
<p> “Stop,” said Ron gruffly. Another person might have taken Ron’s stony expression for anger, but Hermione recognized it as profound discomfort. “I’ll have to feed you all more to shut you up. Are we ready for dessert?”</p>
<p>Over the years, Ron had become a passable host as well as cook. Like his mother, he enjoyed feeding people. Despite her current disappointment with him, Hermione still admired his graciousness.</p>
<p>“I really couldn’t eat another bite,” said Harry, obviously lying given how thoroughly he had cleaned his bowl. He pushed his chair back and stood up. “I have to get back to Gin and the kids.”</p>
<p>“Likewise,” said Snape, also rising. “Thank you for the hospitality, Mr. Weasley.”</p>
<p>“I’ll work out who we should impersonate this time,” said Hermione, as she followed Snape and Harry back to the living room. Ron trailed behind her.</p>
<p>“If I might make a suggestion, you could consider posing as Violetta Zabini and one of her lovers.”</p>
<p>“Blaise Zabini’s mother?” Though apparently on friendly terms with Malfoy’s gang, Blaise had mostly kept to himself at Hogwarts. At one of the Slug Club meetings, Slughorn had mentioned Blaise’s mother, a famously beautiful widower who could boast of a shocking number of deceased husbands. Beyond that, Hermione knew nothing about the Zabinis.</p>
<p>Snape nodded. “She possesses one of the few fortunes in Britain that might rival the Malfoys.  Her vault should be on level seven. After her last marriage, she decided she’d had enough of matrimony. While never indiscreet, Madam Zabini has nevertheless become well known in certain circles for the variety of lovers she keeps. This ought to work to your advantage. You will only need to secure her hair without having to target a second, specific person. Nearly anyone will do for her companion. Should you appear to behave furtively, observers will supply their own explanations.”</p>
<p>“That’s really clever,” said Hermione, marveling at how quickly Snape had come up with the suggestion.  “You’re sure that Zabini’s, er, lifestyle hasn’t changed since you died? I don’t exactly keep up with the society columns, so I wouldn’t want to try this and find that she’s actually on her eighth husband these days.”</p>
<p>“I haven’t been twiddling my thumbs at home the past few weeks. If anything, her love life seems to have become more active since Blaise left school.” Snape’s voice was impassive, but a slight tetchiness in his features betrayed annoyance at having his spy-craft questioned.</p>
<p>“Leave getting the hairs to me,” said Harry, clearly relishing the idea of more fieldwork. “We’ve always wanted to investigate Zabini for the mysterious deaths of her husbands, but the cases are too cold for the Auror Office to touch.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad to hear the Auror Office exercises some restraint,” said Hermione with a touch of asperity. For years after the war, various branches of the Ministry had conducted raids of former Death Eaters’ homes on increasingly flimsy pretexts that barely veiled a thirst for vengeance. Despite Hermione’s best efforts to rein in her Ministry colleagues, and the fact that Draco Malfoy himself now worked at the Ministry, Malfoy Manor had been searched by no less than the Auror Office, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, and even the Department of Magical Transportation in the past few years.</p>
<p>“Hermione, I know you don’t love the raids, but you should see some of the dark objects we’ve found in these houses. This includes Malfoy Manor. Draco knows we’re not out to get them, there were things even Lucius had forgotten about that were moldering away in their dungeons that are safer in the hands of the Aurors…”</p>
<p>“We could discuss the Auror Office’s abuses all evening,” said Snape airily, “but the comfort of my own hearth beckons after the excellent dinner we’ve just had. I’ll be in touch. Good evening.”</p>
<p>Ron exhaled audibly when Snape bid them farewell. Hermione realized with some guilt that Ron had been standing stiffly next to her the whole time, while a conversation that excluded him flowed long. They had all been oblivious to his discomfort, except for Snape, who stepped into the fireplace, calling out “Spinner’s End.”</p>
<p>“Guess Snape has a point,” said Harry, distractedly checking the time. “Ginny’ll probably want help with the kids now. Night, Ron, Hermione.” Harry gave them both quick hugs before hopping into the fireplace to head back to Grimmauld Place.</p>
<p>Hermione felt her shoulders tensing up now that she was alone with Ron. She tried to consciously relax them, but one look at Ron’s face made that impossible.</p>
<p>“You’re amazing, you know that? I really should have told you about Snape as soon as I got home that night. I’m sorry, truly.”</p>
<p>She hugged Ron tightly, hoping to convey how remorseful she felt. Ron’s arms hung awkward at his sides for a moment, unreciprocating, before he finally yielded. One arm embraced her waist, while his other hand stroked her hair.</p>
<p>“I wish you hadn’t kept this from me,” he said quietly. “But I get it. I’m not that seventeen year old anymore. And I think in a way, you and Harry still are. Maybe it’s because you have desk jobs at the Ministry. You need this chance for excitement. I get that every day at the shop. Every other item on the shelf is some half-tested product that’s going to blow up and take off my leg.”</p>
<p>Hermione giggled in relief.</p>
<p>“I feel bad, though,” he said. “In a way, it does feel like we’re seventeen again—except I’m walking out on you in your quest to bring Snape back from the dead, instead of the quest to find the Horcruxes.”</p>
<p>“It’s not like that at all! For one thing, Snape is already back from the dead.”</p>
<p>Part of her agreed with him, however. It was something Hermione had never forgotten. Whenever their relationship hit its lowest points, her anxious mind would inevitably dwell on the lonely memories of Harry and herself in the tent in the Forest of Dean.</p>
<p>“Anyway, I’m the one who should feel bad. How can I make it up to you?” she asked, lowering her voice in her best imitation of a sultry croon.</p>
<p>“Well, I’m sure you can think of a way,” said Ron in the same tone, beginning to smile slightly.</p>
<p>Sex, like food, was always guaranteed to lift Ron’s spirits. Moments like these, Hermione was grateful that her husband was fundamentally a simple creature.</p>
<p>Ron took her hand and led her to their bedroom. After all these years, he knew how to satisfy her, and he set about the task with single-minded efficiency. But for some reason, as she lay beneath Ron, Hermione kept thinking of the odd involuntary movement Snape had made next to her at dinner, and the thrill she had felt at the prospect that he might have touched her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love a good spot of Ron-bashing as much as any other Hermione/(not Ron) shipper, but endeavored to keep him from becoming totally one-dimensional here. </p>
<p>Note the updated tags. This story is a slow burn so it will be a while before any of the pairings come to fruition, but hopefully this gives people more to look forward to! Or more reasons to stop reading, heh heh.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Back to the Bank</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The stories of Violetta Zabini’s beauty had failed to prepare Hermione for the flesh and blood woman. Gazing into the mirror at her Polyjuiced form, she understood why one man after another had been willing to marry Violetta despite his predecessor’s suspicious death. Her body read like some kind of study in geometric perfection, all hyperbolic curves around her breasts and hips which elongated into the seemingly infinite lines of her legs.</p><p>Hermione knew from experience that transforming into another body while fully clothed invited wardrobe malfunctions, unless you knew the exact measurements of the person whose form you were assuming. Armed with this foreknowledge, she had thankfully chosen to take Polyjuice in her bathroom while Harry waited outside—with Snape.</p><p>Owing to Ron’s non-participation, Snape had reluctantly agreed to accompany Harry and Hermione into Gringotts. He still hadn’t provided an explanation for his hesitation, but Hermione didn’t want to press him. She was secretly delighted he would be coming after all. His company had become a source of pleasure to her.</p><p>Clad only in her underwear (which she’d kept on to respect some modicum of Zabini’s privacy), Hermione could hardly breathe given the constriction of her now too-tight bra, out of which her new breasts threatened to spill like foaming champagne. A seam had also audibly split down the side of her panties as her hips filled out.</p><p>“That’s one way to give a girl an inferiority complex,” she said, waving a wand to repair the tear and size up her lingerie.</p><p>The rest of her outfit hung from the back of the door, awaiting its own resizing under her critical eye. Out of her closet, her best cocktail dress robes came closest to approximating anything Zabini might actually wear, but Hermione ruefully thought she might as well clothe a first edition Beedle the Bard in a dust jacket made out of back issues of the Quibbler.</p><p>Still, she resized the robes and slipped into them. The relatively staid style that Hermione favored let down Zabini’s dramatic features, and the robes sagged in a couple of areas where the enlargement hadn’t scaled properly. Hermione couldn’t do anything about the style, but at least she could make sure the fit was flattering.</p><p>“Hermione?” said Harry loudly from outside. “Are you still alive?”</p><p>“Sorry, need another minute.” She hastily made a few adjustments so that the robes hugged her curves more.</p><p>“Okay, just making sure this isn’t another Millicent Bulstrode’s cat moment.”</p><p>“Millicent Bulstrode’s cat?”</p><p>Hermione could <em>hear</em> the raised eyebrow in Snape’s voice. Not wanting Snape to hear that particular story, she quickly exited the bathroom to head Harry off.</p><p>“Merlin,” said Harry, whose mouth fell open comically as if he were some kind of cartoon character.</p><p>Snape’s expression remained neutral, but he studied her intently. He was in the guise of a graying, permanently stressed-looking gentleman who might have been a stockbroker. At Snape’s suggestion, Harry had stolen this hair during rush hour in the financial district of Muggle London. Snape reasoned that a Muggle was unlikely to be recognized by anyone in Diagon Alley and would therefore raise fewer questions when seen in the company of Violetta Zabini.</p><p>“Wish Snape was going as Zabini,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I was in there for so long because I couldn’t tear my eyes away from my reflection.”</p><p>“Should I have picked a handsomer bloke?” Harry’s stare was now making Hermione feel like she had somehow wronged Ginny. “No one’s going to believe you two are an item.”</p><p>“Surely Granger experiences the same thing when she’s out with Weasley,” said Snape archly.  </p><p>“Ron definitely got the short end of the stick in our marriage,” Hermione said, deliberately misinterpreting Snape’s words. Someone had to defend Ron since he wasn’t present to do it himself.</p><p>“I see no great difference between you and Zabini,” said Snape with an intrepidity that left Harry and Hermione exchanging stunned looks.</p><p>“Well, I think you ought to get your eyes checked, mate,” said Harry. “No offense, Hermione.”</p><p>Hermione was grateful that Violetta’s dark complexion hid her blushing. Even though Harry was the one gawking at her as if she were a Veela, it was Snape’s casual glance that left Hermione feeling self-conscious.</p><p>“Harry, you’ve seen Zabini before. You stole her hair.”</p><p>“Yeah, from a distance. Didn’t prepare me for a close encounter.” Harry shook his head vigorously as if to clear it.</p><p>“There is one detail that’s off,” Snape said, beginning to circle Hermione.  </p><p>“What’s that?” she asked self-consciously, wondering if her tailoring job wasn’t up to snuff.</p><p>Snape paused near her back. She felt the heat of his body through her robes. Before she could react, he lowered a shining necklace before her throat and fastened it so deftly that his fingers never even brushed her skin. He drew away just as quickly as he had closed in.</p><p>“Zabini doesn’t make—understated—public appearances. I thought your wardrobe might not be in her sartorial league, so I brought an accessory to remedy the issue.”</p><p>Hermione turned back toward her bathroom mirror to examine the necklace. An elegant chain of emerald cabochons in chased gold brought just the right level of oomph to her simple robes. She had little experience with fine jewelry, but suspected she would be hard pressed to afford a piece like this even with her high-ranking Ministry job.</p><p>“Where did you get this?”</p><p>“Transfigured it from a shoelace.”</p><p>“I think you should keep it as payment,” Harry suggested. “Otherwise Snape’s getting free labor out of you.”</p><p>“And we all know how the idea of unpaid labor is anathema to Granger. Keep the necklace; I have no use for it.”</p><p>Hermione nearly choked. Had Snape just gifted her with jewelry? She wasn’t convinced by the story that he had Transfigured it. Perhaps he was much better at Transfiguration than anyone had ever let on, but Hermione found that improbable. Snape could be a generation-defining genius at Potions and the Dark Arts, but adding Transfiguration was pushing it.</p><p>The alternative was that this was a bona fide piece of fine jewelry. But if the necklace was genuine, where had he really gotten it? They didn’t have the time to dwell on it now, but she filed the question away for future investigation.</p><p>“The clock is running,” she said briskly. “We should go.”</p><p>Once inside Gringotts, the plan was for Hermione, Snape, and Harry to access the seventh level, which housed the largest pureblood family vaults. While Hermione and Snape entered the Zabini vault and pretended to transact business there, Harry would locate Vault 734 and run a battery of diagnostic spells. Some debate had taken place over who was better suited for this task. Hermione had nominated Snape, given his greater familiarity with the dark arts and the purebloods who likely owned the vault. Harry would have been happy to let Hermione do it; their school days had ingrained in him the habit of deferring to her abilities. In the end, Snape had prevailed with his usual perception.</p><p>
  <em>“Granger and I are out of practice. I’ve been dead the past fourteen years, and Granger’s been behind a desk so long she’s forgotten the weight of a wand in her hand. Potter, your job requires field work, does it not?” </em>
</p><p>Though Snape had uttered the words with no apparent intent to wound, the sting lingered in Hermione’s mind as they Apparated to the Diagon Alley apparition point closest to Gringotts. Absurdly, she remembered the countless times she had raised her hand in Potions to answer a question, only for Snape to ignore her and call on someone else.</p><p><em>Pick me, pick me, Professor,</em> her subconscious piped up. <em>I’ve got an impressive career too!</em></p><p>Snape offered Hermione his arm as they emerged in Diagon Alley, snapping her out of her petty musings. Surprised but mollified, she took it.</p><p><em>Maybe this is what Snape was after when he suggested you pose as Zabini</em>, her traitorous subconscious suggested. <em>Can you imagine him initiating physical contact with Harry?</em></p><p>Hermione tried to silence the voice inside her head, but as she strode toward the bank arm-in-arm with Snape, his touch gave her the same frisson she had felt sitting next to Snape at her dinner table. The odd sensation (she refused to call it chemistry) didn’t seem to be affected by the fact that they were both in borrowed bodies at the moment. Even his necklace burned against her skin. She clung to the knowledge that Harry was trailing invisibly behind them, as she didn’t want to examine her feelings about being alone with Snape.</p><p>At the teller’s counter inside the bank, a goblin greeted them deferentially. “How may I help you today, Madam Zabini?”</p><p>“I’d like to access my vault,” said Hermione nonchalantly. Her face grew hot as she experienced a wave of déjà vu. The last time she had done this in Bellatrix’s body, the goblin had immediately smelled a rat.</p><p>But last time, the goblins had been on alert before they’d even stepped into Gringotts. This time, the goblin merely nodded.</p><p>“Very good. Nog will take you.” He gestured at another goblin, who trotted over.</p><p>“This way, madam and sir,” said Nog smoothly. He led Hermione and Snape behind the counter, over to the gleaming tracks that fed into the bank’s underbelly.</p><p>“So far, so good,” breathed Harry. He was fitted with a charmed mic, one of George’s latest creations and Ron’s sole contribution to their venture. When he spoke, no one could hear him but Hermione and Snape. Hermione and Snape each had one as well, but they couldn’t use theirs while they still needed to speak with the goblins.</p><p>“After you,” said Nog, inviting Hermione and Snape to step into a cart. They got in, deliberately leaving enough room on the back seat for Harry to fit next to them. Hermione felt him settle next to her hurriedly, as he jumped in before Nog could enter the cart and close the door behind him.</p><p>“Looks a bit weird for you two to be sitting so close to each other when there’s plenty of room here,” Harry muttered. “Snape, put your arm around her or something.”</p><p>Without missing a beat, Snape wrapped an arm around Hermione’s waist and pulled her against him. She wondered if he could feel her elevated pulse through her robes, where his fingers rested lightly on her ribcage. The cart began to roll.</p><p>“I know the ride down to the vaults makes you dizzy,” he murmured. “Just hold onto me.”</p><p>“Thanks.” She placed a hand on Snape’s thigh as if to brace herself. If she was already starting to feel dizzy, it had nothing to do with the motion of the cart.</p><p>Nog turned back to address them from the front seat. “If Madam Zabini prefers, I can slow the cart down. That might help with motion sickness.”</p><p>“That won’t be necessary,” said Hermione quickly. Close to a quarter of an hour had already passed since they’d taken Polyjuice. “I’d like to finish my business here as soon as possible.”</p><p>“As you wish.”</p><p>As if on cue, the cart picked up speed and began hurtling around corners at a breakneck pace. Hermione, who never had cared for the ride, closed her eyes and leaned involuntarily into Snape. His Muggle body wasn’t as tall or as imposing as Snape was, for which Hermione was grateful. It was one thing to seek physical comfort from this unexciting stranger. She might have been tempted to tell Nog to slow the cart down if she had been cuddling up to Snape in his own body.</p><p>Snape stiffened slightly at first, then patted her side reassuringly.</p><p>“Snape, I’m feeling a little dizzy, too,” Harry said in a mock-serious voice. “Would you give me a hug? Ow!”</p><p>Hermione stifled a chortle. She had no idea what Snape had done with his free hand but could hazard a few guesses.</p><p>Mercifully, they arrived at the seventh level before Hermione could get too comfortable. As soon as they pulled up in front of a heavily ornamented vault, she began to extricate herself from Snape’s side. The cart stopped abruptly when she had risen halfway, tumbling her off her feet and into Snape’s lap.</p><p>He raised a gray eyebrow at her. Funny how that gesture remained devastatingly sardonic despite his currently unprepossessing mien.</p><p>“Your vault isn’t going anywhere, my dear.”</p><p>Though the last thing she wanted at the moment was more physical contact, she accepted his help getting to her feet. She did at least manage to avoid making eye contact with him.</p><p>Nog bounded to the door of the vault and stroked it with a long finger. As it melted away, he bowed them inside. “Take your time.”</p><p>The door re-materialized behind Hermione and Snape once they entered the vault. Having seen the inside of Bellatrix’s vault, Hermione thought she had some idea of what to expect. As she took in her surroundings, she felt like a third-year entering Honeydukes for the first time. Enormous candy-colored jewels hung from glittering towers of gold coins like so much forbidden fruit. Pearls the size of a child’s head were scattered across the floor like a giant’s game of marbles. The ceiling and walls—at least to the extent they were visible through the piles of treasure—were covered in hundreds of magical paintings and tapestries, whose subjects flitted birdlike from frame to frame (or warp to weft, as the case might be), conversing with each other in what must have been magically dimmed tones. The din should have been deafening given the sheer number of painted and woven figures, but their chatter never rose above the susurrus of dry leaves.  </p><p>Hermione pulled out her mic and tapped it with her wand to activate it. “Harry, where are you?”</p><p>“I’m looking for 734. The good news is Zabini’s vault is 745. So it can’t be too far off.”</p><p>“Cast a transparency spell on the door,” whispered Snape. “And activate my mic as well. I can’t use magic while I’m in this Muggle form.”</p><p>Hermione opened her mouth to question him, but contented herself with giving him a skeptical look. She tapped his mic with her wand, and cast a one-way <em>Transpareo</em> on the door. Now wasn’t the time to quibble over the finer points of Polyjuice. Still, she could have sworn that the potion couldn’t alter magical ability. Like memories and personality, magic should persist regardless of one’s corporeal form.</p><p>Snape ignored her and peered intently through the door. Nog stood before the door with his back to them. Beyond him, they could see a number of vaults on the other side of the cavernlike chamber that comprised the seventh floor.</p><p>“Found it,” said Harry. “It’s on the other side of the floor. Going to cast a concealment spell so Nog doesn’t see anything suspicious down here, then start with some basic <em>Revelio</em> spells to find out who was last here.”</p><p>Harry tried a number of different incantations.  “Last person down here was a male, around Snape’s age. Hard to tell if this isn’t just Snape himself, these spells don’t exactly present an identity parade of the last people in the area. Hang on…” He gave a low whistle. “Just a few hours before that person showed up, the next-to-last person in the vicinity was another male around Snape’s age. One of these is actually Snape, obviously. So who’s the other one?”</p><p>Hermione and Snape exchanged significant looks.</p><p>“You and Lucius are around the same age, aren’t you?”</p><p>“He’s five years older than me,” Snape said.</p><p>They would have just overlapped at Hogwarts. The image of Lucius as a prefect inducting first-year Snape into the mysteries of Slytherin House popped up unbidden in Hermione’s mind, eliciting a smile. Snape noticed, frowning. Conscious that her smile could be misinterpreted, she quickly wiped it from her face.</p><p>“Close enough,” said Hermione. “I don’t think any tracing spell could pinpoint a person’s age with greater accuracy so long after they’ve passed through.”</p><p>“After those two, it’s all goblins as far back as I can see.”</p><p>Seeing no evidence of Harry’s copious spellcasting, Hermione knew that his concealment spell worked. Yet Nog decided at that moment to abandon his post by the cart for no apparent reason, striding purposefully toward one of the distant vaults.</p><p>“Three guesses where he’s going,” Snape muttered. “Potter, you’ve given yourself away somehow. The goblin is headed in your direction.”</p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>“Time to execute our contingency plan,” said Snape. The contingency plan was the Imperius Curse.</p><p>“Only if Harry is actually discovered,” Hermione reminded him. The wizarding law she had sworn to uphold admitted no permissible use of the Unforgivable Curses, no matter how great the duress. There was no way to reconcile this personal use of Imperius with her professional vows, but Hermione was damned if her hypocrisy was going to be exposed without a fight.</p><p>“This isn’t Hogwarts. You won’t get docked house points for cursing the goblin.”</p><p>“Are you lording your real-world experience over me?” she hissed. “Because you’re right, this isn’t Hogwarts and I don’t have to <em>take it from you</em>. It’s easy for you to tell us to use an Unforgivable when you’ve got an iron-clad excuse not to do any spellcasting down here.”</p><p>Snape’s eyes flashed fire, which made Hermione angrier. <em>How dare he take offense at her? </em>She was the one risking her high profile career and sterling reputation to help a person she hadn’t spoken to in over a decade.  He damn well ought to be grateful. Before either of them could say anything further, though, Nog’s voice came through clearly through Harry’s mic.</p><p>“May I help you, Harry Potter?”</p><p>At that point, Harry must have disabled his mic to speak to Nog, for they heard nothing further. They could still see, however, and observed Harry appearing headfirst from midair as he shed the invisibility cloak in front of Nog.</p><p>“What the devil is he doing?” asked Snape.</p><p>Harry and Nog were engaged in an animated conversation. In the vast, empty cavern, their voices carried to Hermione and Snape’s ears as muddled echoes.</p><p>“I’m going to back Harry up,” said Hermione, reaching for the door. “Stay here until we’ve incapacitated Nog.”</p><p>“Thank you for the direction,” Snape said icily. “I would certainly have barged into the fray without the ability to use a wand if not for your timely instruction.”</p><p>“You made yourself a liability by insisting on being a Muggle,” she snapped. Before she could say anything else, she saw Harry waving at them with both arms.</p><p>“Come on over,” he yelled distantly through cupped hands.</p><p>Hermione glanced at Snape, who jerked his head irritably. “You heard Potter.”</p><p>Hermione placed her hand on the vault door, which vanished under her touch. She and Snape made her way to Harry and Nog. Both had their wands out. In Snape’s case, this was purely a bluff.</p><p>“What’s going on, Harry?”</p><p>Harry grinned. “Nog here is a friend of our cause.”</p><p>Nog gave a slight bow. “Some of the Gringotts goblins bear a grudge against Harry Potter after the Sword of Gryffindor was lost most recently. After all, it had been promised to Griphook. But others of us understand that Griphook possessed the Sword when he and Potter parted, ultimately losing it when the Dark Lord slaughtered him and others of our kind when they reported the destruction of Helga Hufflepuff’s cup—my father among them. Potter killed the Dark Lord and avenged my father, which I never could have done. To repay this debt, I will not expose you. I will help you if your aim today is as noble as the mission that brought you here years ago.”</p><p>“It may not be <em>as</em> noble, but you can rest assured that we don’t intend to steal or destroy anything,” said Snape dryly. “We’d like to know who this vault belongs to.”</p><p>“It is one of the Malfoy family’s lesser used vaults. ”</p><p>Hermione nearly laughed at how easy getting this answer had been. Snape had mentioned interrogating goblins under duress after waking up in Gringotts. Today, the very first goblin they had run into willingly gave up the information they sought.</p><p>Harry was clearly thinking the same thing. “Too bad you didn’t run into Nog when you got out of here two weeks ago.”</p><p>Snape huffed impatiently. “I don’t think I would have received the same cooperation without Saint Potter’s patronage.” He turned back to Nog. “When was the last time Lucius visited?”</p><p>“About two weeks ago.”</p><p>Hermione, Snape, and Harry all exchanged looks. That was when Snape had woken up.</p><p>“What was he doing here?” asked Hermione.</p><p>“He wanted to locate a portrait that he believed was stored in the vault. Mr. Malfoy claimed that he was redecorating. He came in a hurry, but it transpired that the portrait in question was not in the vault.”</p><p>“It must have sprouted legs and walked out,” Snape said blandly. “Before then, when was the last time he visited?”</p><p>“Fourteen years ago, in mid-June.”</p><p>Again, the timing matched up perfectly. Lucius must have come right after the Battle of Hogwarts.</p><p>“What was his stated business during that visit?”</p><p>“He wanted to deposit a Roman sarcophagus. He claimed he had recently acquired the piece from a museum.”</p><p>“Gringotts accepted this explanation? Why would he acquire a museum piece and then hide it away for years?” Harry asked.</p><p>“The Gringotts goblins do not speculate as to our clients’ asset management strategies,” Nog said delicately.</p><p>Snape scoffed. “Better not to know of the pureblood families’ ill-gotten gains or illegal artifacts.”</p><p>“Was there anything unusual about the sarcophagus?” Hermione asked.</p><p>“No, but Mr. Malfoy specifically requested reverse one-way wards on the vault. In other words, the vault would keep intruders out, but allow anyone to exit. Normally, Gringotts vaults allow anyone to enter, but prevent anyone but the goblins and the rightful owners from exiting.”</p><p>“Why did you accommodate this request?”</p><p>“The Malfoys are among our best customers,” said Nog simply.</p><p>“Is there anything else inside the vault?”</p><p>“Nothing of interest. The Malfoys use this vault to store their surplus art collection, which is why it’s used so infrequently. Everything else in there has been there for decades, if not centuries.”</p><p>“I think we have all we need to know,” said Snape. “Our next stop is clearly Malfoy Manor.”</p><p>While Hermione agreed in principle, she privately thought that she’d rather break into Gringotts again than beard Lucius Malfoy in his den. She was in no hurry to return to Malfoy Manor in any capacity. Moreover, the last time she had seen Lucius, he’d been bound to a chair in her office while she extracted his memories for review in a Pensieve.</p><p>While he had consented to the process readily enough, his judgmental gaze had penetrated Hermione the whole time. Hermione knew deep down that while the threat of Azkaban hung over his head, his consent was tainted by duress. For once in his life, Lucius had occupied the moral high ground. The incident, which still filled Hermione with shame, had made her wary of her own propensity to abuse power. The risk only increased as she advanced within the Ministry, but she had only to think of Lucius’s knowing gray eyes in order to make the right, if difficult, decision every time she was at a crossroads.</p><p>To make matters worse, the extraction of Lucius’s memories hadn’t been <em>precise</em>, to say the least. Hermione had sought only his recollections of Lestrange, but a few rather personal ones had made it into the Pensieve. She didn’t know if Lucius was aware of the full extent of what she had seen. One memory in particular stood out to her. Though it was unrelated to Lestrange, it actually had motivated her principled defense of Lucius more than anything else she had seen.</p><p>
  <em>Lucius, looking wan, said to Narcissa, “The Dark Lord is going to kill him.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He’ll be fine,” Narcissa replied in soothing tones. “He can take care of himself.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>When she reached out to Lucius, he practically melted in her embrace.</em>
</p><p>Witnessing Lucius’s obvious love for his family, especially his concern for Draco, had softened Hermione toward him. For Lucius’s part, the entire encounter had likely created a festering resentment that Hermione would do best to avoid reawakening.</p><p>Out loud, she said only, “Thanks for all your help, Nog. Would you mind taking us back up?”</p><p>“You’re most welcome. The next time you need something from Gringotts, you need only ask. Security <em>was</em> tightened after the last time. We could never allow Harry Potter and Hermione Granger to enter undetected again, even if your aims were ultimately noble. Our pride wouldn’t allow it.” He paused and looked curiously at Snape. “Though I am surprised the third member of your group is not Ronald Weasley—or indeed, any wizard.”</p><p>“Consider it a small mercy,” said Snape sardonically.</p><p>Hermione was as puzzled as Nog looked, however. He could apparently tell that Snape was in a Muggle’s body. So Snape hadn’t been lying about losing his magic in this Polyjuiced form. But that went against everything that Hermione understood about the fundamentals of magic. Wizards didn’t lose their magic when in Animagus form, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to transform back. Hermione made a mental note to research this later (in her copious free time).</p><p>As they boarded the cart, Hermione made sure to leave plenty of space between herself and Snape. If he thought she would cuddle up against him now that their pretense had been discovered, he was sorely mistaken. Harry got in next to Nog and put the Invisibility Cloak on again.</p><p>Though the jig was up, no one felt comfortable speaking freely in front of Nog. They rode in silence back to the Gringotts lobby, where Nog took leave of them.</p><p>“It’s been a pleasure assisting all of you,” he said quietly, eyes flickering to where Harry presumably stood. “Feel free to ask for me the next time you visit.”</p><p>“You’ve been very kind,” said Hermione truthfully.</p><p>“Till next time. And Madam Zabini—may I say, your necklace is lovely.  Such fine goblin craftsmanship isn’t seen often these days.”</p><p>Before Hermione could respond, Nog bowed and swept away to assist other customers.</p><p>“Let’s go,” Snape murmured. “We’re running out of time.”</p><p>Nog’s parting comment puzzled Hermione as much as anything that had occurred since Snape had first shown up in her office. Was Snape’s Transfiguration prowess so great that he could fool even a Gringott’s goblin into thinking a shoelace was goblin-worked gold? She couldn’t see why Snape would lie about such an incidental thing, but she had to wonder what else he was concealing.</p><p>Still, Snape was right. She had no desire to transform back into her body in the middle of Gringotts on a busy weekend.</p><p>“Shall we go back to my flat to discuss?” Hermione suggested.</p><p>“No,” said Snape, whose refusal took Hermione aback. “I need to think about our next steps. I’ll be in touch.”</p><p>Without another word, he turned and strode down Diagon Alley, losing himself quickly in the crowd.</p><p>“Think about our next steps?” Hermione echoed, looking at Harry. “What did he think I wanted to discuss, Gobstones strategies?”</p><p>Harry shrugged sympathetically. “He may have changed a lot, but he’s still Snape. I’ll come back with you. I do want to talk about Lucius. And if Ron’s back from the shop, we can fill him in.”</p><p>Privately, Hermione wasn’t sure Ron cared. He seemed to have washed his hands of the matter.</p><p>They Apparated into Hermione’s living room, where Ron was nursing a beer on the couch and following a Chudley Cannons game on the Wizarding wireless. Hermione would never understand why wizards hadn’t bothered to invent the magical equivalent of television (for Quidditch matches if nothing else), but she was grateful for it. Ron might spend even more time following Quidditch if he could watch televised games. She and Ron already didn’t spend as much time together as they should, in her opinion.</p><p>“Shh,” said Ron fiercely as soon as they appeared. “Lascelles might be about to catch the Snitch and I don’t want to miss it—bloody hell, Hermione!”</p><p>He was giving her the same awestruck stare that Harry had, except it felt much worse being on the receiving end this time since she was actually married to Ron.</p><p>“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes.” He looked her up and down. “Wouldn’t happen to have a few spare Zabini hairs, would you?”</p><p>“Ron, that’s disgusting, and no.”</p><p>“Mate, you wouldn’t believe what happened down there,” Harry interjected, quickly changing the topic.</p><p>Ron listened to the story with little apparent interest. While Harry was speaking, the Polyjuice wore off, returning Hermione to herself. Ron observed the changes with, Hermione fancied, a slight hint of resentment.</p><p>“So it was Malfoy all along,” Ron said at the conclusion of Harry’s story. “I could have guessed as much from the beginning. Glad I saved myself that trip. Looks like you didn’t gain anything from it.”</p><p>“That’s easy to say in hindsight,” Hermione said defensively. “Speak for yourself, but I’m not on friendly enough terms with Lucius Malfoy to go knocking on his door without a shred of evidence to ask him whether he’s been harboring a dead man for the past decade.”</p><p>Ron grunted. “Sounds to me like that’s basically what you’re doing next. Don’t know if a goblin’s word is hard evidence. Let me know how it goes.”</p><p>He drained his beer and got up. “Either of you want anything from the kitchen?”</p><p>Harry declined and Hermione shook her head. They heard Ron open another beer, then start digging around in the refrigerator to fix up some food.</p><p>“So, about Lucius then--,” began Hermione.</p><p>There was a loud pop in the fireplace, and Ginny’s head appeared wearing a worried expression.</p><p>“Hi Hermione, sorry to intrude, but I’m looking for Harry—oh, there you are!”</p><p>“What’s wrong?” asked Harry.</p><p>“It’s <em>James,</em>” Ginny said desperately. “He’s having another one of his magical outbursts</p><p>“Sorry, Hermione,” Ginny added. “I know you guys are in the middle of something. I just figured that if the actual mission was over, I could borrow Harry. Normally I can handle James by myself, but he’s having the terrible two’s really badly now, and with Albus in the picture, it’s been rather a lot.”</p><p>“<em>Borrow</em> Harry?” Hermione exclaimed. “Of course, Ginny, he’s their dad. Go on, there’s not much more we can do right now anyway.”</p><p>“We’ll have you and Ron over for dinner sometime once we get things under control over here. Oi—put that down!” Ginny’s head disappeared as she ran off to deal with her children’s havoc.</p><p>“Let me know when Snape gets in touch,” said Harry, grabbing a handful of Floo powder. “Today was absolutely brilliant. See you at work!”</p><p>Ron returned with a sandwich on a plate just as Harry disappeared into the fireplace.</p><p>“Harry left already?”</p><p>“Ginny was having some kind of crisis at home with the kids.”</p><p>Ron grimaced sympathetically. “Almost makes me glad we don’t have any yet.”</p><p>“Almost?” This was the first indication Hermione had ever received that Ron was interested in having children. He always blew off Mrs. Weasley’s very frank admonitions that they were wasting their prime child-bearing years.</p><p>“James and Al are adorable. Don’t you ever think it’d be nice to have a couple of tykes running around looking like you?”</p><p>Feeling slightly betrayed at Ron’s sudden alignment with his mother, Hermione said, “I didn’t know you felt that way about having children.”</p><p>“Well, between your all-consuming job and your new extracurriculars, you haven’t had time for me. When would I have told you?”</p><p>Heat suffused Hermione’s face, and shockingly, utterly embarrassingly, she felt tears begin to prickle the corners of her eyes. There was absolutely no reason for her to fall apart. Ron had said a few rude words to her, but he had been doing that since they were eleven. But it wasn’t just that he’d hurt her. Without even fully articulating it to herself, she sensed that his words had exposed a rift that had grown up between them, and which was bigger than any specific argument they’d ever had.</p><p>Ron seemed to be as shocked as she was. He instantly put his sandwich down, came over and put his arm around Hermione.</p><p>“Hey, don’t do that. I’m sorry. Look, I was in a bad mood because the Cannons are losing.”</p><p>Hermione felt a rush of relief at his apology, though part of her wondered who she had married. Who still got this bent out of shape over sports? Who suddenly changed their mind about something as important as having children and dropped it like a bombshell in the middle of an argument with his wife? Who was this man, who belittled and resented her personal and professional accomplishments?</p><p>She said nothing, but hugged him back, willing her mind to stop churning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Snape is most appealing when he’s hiding something, isn’t he? One almost misses those pre-DH days when we didn’t know for certain if he was good or evil.</p><p>For those who have been waiting for Lucius, I can confidently predict an appearance in the next chapter :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. By Invitation Only</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning, Hermione wrote to Snape.</p>
<p>
  <em>When are we going to see Lucius?</em>
</p>
<p>He didn’t reply immediately. A quarter of an hour passed. Then another.</p>
<p>She couldn’t fathom why he wouldn’t respond immediately. He had no social life or job. Maybe he had errands to run, she thought dubiously, perhaps groceries or cleaning?</p>
<p>The mental image made her snort. She had to get started on her own errands anyway, which included picking up new robes at Madam Malkin’s, restocking personal essentials like Sleekeazy’s, and, time permitting, browsing the latest releases at Flourish and Blotts. With a huff, she stuffed Snape’s diary in her bag and made her way to Diagon Alley.</p>
<p>Hermione completed everything on her to-do list without hearing from Snape. At Flourish and Blotts, she chose five books to purchase, a process which took well over an hour given that she had to narrow her picks down from an initial list of about twenty. Still no word from Snape.</p>
<p>In her growing impatience, she paused on the doorstep upon leaving the bookstore to open the diary. Maybe it was malfunctioning and she’d somehow missed a message from Snape.  </p>
<p>“Pardon me,” said a voice coldly. “This may come as a surprise to you, but there are others of us who have learned to read and would like to exercise that privilege.”</p>
<p>She knew who had spoken without looking up. His voice was unmistakable, though she hadn’t heard it in years. Not since she had interrogated him after the war.</p>
<p>Lucius Malfoy.</p>
<p>He loomed over her, sneering, immaculately clad in black. The years had been kind to him, filling out the gaunt hollows in his face that the war had left, restoring the confidence that gave his bearing a touch of regality.</p>
<p>If Hermione’s pulse was elevated, it was only because he had startled her.</p>
<p>Had it been anyone else, Hermione would have apologized and gotten out of the way. Given that she had been snooping around his Gringotts vault only yesterday, and was even now plotting to confront him about the resurrection of a dead man—to say nothing of their fraught history—she froze in place.</p>
<p>The coincidence was too monstrous to ignore. Her mind worked furiously to turn the encounter to her advantage. What should she say to him? Could she probe him subtly about his vault and his connection to Snape?</p>
<p>He solved the problem by forestalling any chance for her to speak. In one swift motion, he plucked the diary out of her hands. The pages rippled under his searching fingertips as his gray eyes darted back and forth.</p>
<p>Hermione realized with horror that if anyone could guess what the diary was, it would be Lucius, who had possessed Tom Riddle’s diary for years. On top of that, the very last thing she had written in <em>this</em> diary was Lucius’s name.</p>
<p>“Typically, one reads books with <em>words</em> in them. Care to take your intense perusal of these blank pages elsewhere?”</p>
<p>He extended the diary toward her between his thumb and forefinger, as if it were a dirty sock.</p>
<p>Hermione seized the diary back, blushing. Mercifully, her last message had disappeared, and Snape still hadn’t replied. If Lucius had seen any correspondence between her and Snape, it might have been easier to hex him than come up with an explanation.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m sorry, are you in a hurry? You must have so many pressing social and professional engagements, being a former Death Eater.”</p>
<p>So much for taking advantage of this encounter to get information about Snape. Lucius had managed to rattle her easily, and now she was trading barbs with him as if they were fans of rival Quidditch teams.</p>
<p>“I manage to be efficient by mixing business and pleasure. On that note, I wanted to have a word with you about the Anniversary Gala.”</p>
<p>The nerve of that segue threw her off balance yet again. At the very least, it seemed he didn’t harbor any ill will toward her from their last encounter. So far he was displaying nothing more than standard on-brand Malfoy rudeness.</p>
<p>“That’s hardly my department. Shouldn’t you talk to HR?”</p>
<p>Hermione abhorred the Ministry’s annual gala. She had only started going in the past couple of years, once her increasingly senior position made it impossible to decline the invitation. Lucius ought to know that, given that he was on the planning committee. That position was the biggest toehold he had managed to retain at the Ministry. He had even that only because the Ministry wanted to promote an image of post-war unity. They trotted him out every year on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, as if a tame ex-Death Eater could be put through his paces like a prized dressage horse.</p>
<p>“We’re changing things up a bit this year. It’s the tenth anniversary, after all.”</p>
<p>The smirk on his face raised Hermione’s hackles.</p>
<p>“Are you going to tell me what you want, or do we have to play twenty questions?”</p>
<p>This was perhaps not the best phrasing for Lucius’s former interrogator to use. She winced inwardly.</p>
<p>“I don’t intend to submit to any more questions from you,” Lucius said archly, not one to let subtext to elude him. “Let me tell you clearly what I have in mind: Each department at the Ministry is going to be responsible for a portion of the night’s entertainment. You and I should discuss what your department is going to contribute.”</p>
<p>“You’re joking!”</p>
<p>“If you want to test my sincerity, why don’t you join me for dinner at the Manor tomorrow evening?”</p>
<p>He issued the invitation with perfect nonchalance, as if Hermione dropped by Malfoy Manor for dinner on a regular basis.</p>
<p>“If I were inclined to discuss this with you, which I’m not, why wouldn’t you just drop by my office—in the Ministry, where we both work—during normal working hours?”</p>
<p>“Talking about work, at a workplace, during working hours.” Lucius arched a blond eyebrow. “Where’s the pleasure in that?”</p>
<p>Hermione was about to point out that work was in fact what having a job entailed, but held her tongue. Why fight him? He seemed, inexplicably, to be flirting with her. Merlin knew what Lucius’s game was, but he had given her the very opening she and Snape were looking for.</p>
<p>“If you need additional persuasion, I’ll open a bottle of Margaux to mark the occasion. I’m told my cellar has one of the best collections in Britain.”</p>
<p>Hermione rolled her eyes. For a man whose fortune dated back to the conquest, he had a positively nouveau riche love of flaunting his wealth.</p>
<p>“Why are you going to all this trouble?”</p>
<p>“It’s no trouble at all. Merely a show of good faith as we begin negotiating your contribution.”</p>
<p>She wondered if he saw the irony in his reference to good faith, given his surname. Her pride forbade her from capitulating verbally, but she gave him a curt nod.</p>
<p>“Is that a yes?”</p>
<p>Of course Lucius wouldn’t allow her to deny him that satisfaction. He wasn’t that kind of man.</p>
<p>“You can expect me around six.”  </p>
<p>He smiled triumphantly. “Excellent. I look forward to having you.”</p>
<p>Lucius wasn’t the only one who could read subtext. For her own sanity, Hermione needed to believe that Lucius had chosen his words without lascivious intent. Her burgeoning chemistry with Snape was distressing enough. Perhaps the healers at St. Mungo’s could diagnose her with some kind of early onset degenerative illness, whose early symptoms included an inexplicable, sudden sexual attraction to older Slytherin men (which was apparently reciprocated!) and which usually terminated in madness.</p>
<p>“Now,” Lucius continued smoothly, “you really should move aside.”</p>
<p>A line of shoppers trying to leave Flourish and Blotts had aggregated behind Hermione unnoticed. Nobody, it seemed, dared interrupt a conversation between Lucius Malfoy and Hermione Granger. How much had people heard? From his vantage point, Lucius must have noticed the growing crowd. In typical Malfoy fashion, he cared neither about being overheard or inconveniencing others.</p>
<p>Murmuring a hurried apology at the group behind her, Hermione stashed the diary in her purse and stepped out of the way.</p>
<p>“Till tomorrow, Miss Granger.” Lucius smirked and sallied into the bookstore without letting anyone exit first.</p>
<p>At that exact moment, Hermione felt the tug of the diary on her consciousness. Having learned her lesson about being caught in public with it, she didn’t open it until she had made it back home, still fuming over Lucius’s rudeness and presumption.</p>
<p><em>At your earliest convenience</em>, Snape had written.</p>
<p><em>Agreed</em>, she wrote back. She paused, thinking how best to write out the story of meeting Lucius, but in the end added, <em>Can we talk? Have news about Lucius. It’s urgent.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>I can come over.</em>
</p>
<p>Hermione would have preferred to go to Snape in case Ron came home, but couldn’t say so. They had no reason to hide anything from Ron.</p>
<p><em>Sure</em>.</p>
<p>A minute later, Snape stepped out of her fireplace. While Lucius made Hermione’s fur crackle with his particular brand of poisonous urbanity, Snape brought an altogether different sort of energy. Underneath his languid, sneering exterior, she perceived a strength of purpose and an untiring intellect that she found alluring. Both were on full display now. Nobody would call Snape conventionally attractive, but as he pinned her with a piercing gaze, she allowed herself to savor their tete-a-tete.</p>
<p>“Do you really have news already? Or was this just a ploy to get me to come over?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I really have news,” she said indignantly. “Why would I use a ploy to get a hold of you?”</p>
<p>“Well, for the first time in a while, you’ve found someone to have an intelligent conversation with. Someone other than Potter or Weasley, in other words.”</p>
<p>Hermione glared at him. “One might guess, from your attitude, that you don’t need my help anymore.”</p>
<p>“By all means, share your urgent update.”</p>
<p>“I ran into Lucius just now, at Flourish and Blotts. He’s invited me to dinner at Malfoy Manor tomorrow night to discuss the Ministry’s Anniversary Gala.”</p>
<p>Hermione had the satisfaction of seeing Snape’s eyes widen a fraction.</p>
<p>“I didn’t realize you were on such friendly terms with him,” he said with feigned nonchalance. “You might have mentioned something earlier.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be ridiculous, I haven’t spoken to him since he was in my office telling me everything he knew about how to track down his fellow Death Eaters.”</p>
<p>“And showing you,” Snape added silkily. “I’m sure Lucius has fond memories of your Pensieve practices.”</p>
<p>“The point is, we’ve got an invitation to Malfoy Manor tomorrow night. This is our opportunity to find out exactly what he was doing with your body in his vault.”</p>
<p>“We? I didn’t realize I was included. Lucius detests third wheels.”</p>
<p>“Do you have any actual views on this, or are you content to find a punchline for everything I say?”</p>
<p>“Old habits die hard.” He became serious. “But actually, I shouldn’t accompany you. Lucius may reveal more if he believes you are alone. We don’t want him to feel cornered.”</p>
<p>This made no sense to Hermione. After her encounter with Lucius, Hermione would say the man was composed of nine parts sheer nerve, one part schadenfreude. If they showed up with an army of Aurors, Lucius would merely order his house elves to lay out more table settings. That wasn’t the only problem she had with Snape’s misgivings.</p>
<p>“Does it matter whether you’re with me? Ordinarily I would never advocate trusting Lucius Malfoy, but he can hardly be <em>your</em> enemy. He kept you alive and safe for ten years.”</p>
<p>“Oh, to have a Gryffindor’s limited imagination. I would love to find out what that feels like sometime. No, there are many reasons apart from goodwill that one wizard might keep another alive. Just look at Dumbledore and Potter. In Lucius’s case, revenge could be a powerful motive.”</p>
<p>“Revenge?”</p>
<p>“I don’t pretend to fully understand how his mind works. Perhaps he believes that his life would have been better in a world where Voldemort won.”</p>
<p>Hermione thought back to her last visit to Malfoy Manor, and the shell of a man that Lucius had been under Voldemort’s reign.</p>
<p>“I don’t buy that.”</p>
<p>“We could debate Lucius’s psychology all day. But for our immediate purposes, I won’t be joining you tomorrow, which means you will need to stay on your guard at Malfoy Manor. While you’re discussing the gala and, you’ll naturally fall into reminiscences about the war. Inevitably, my name will come up and you can gauge his reaction.  Depending what he says initially, you might ask him more pointed questions.”</p>
<p>“This all seems a little unnecessarily cloak-and-dagger. We <em>know</em> you were in his vault. Why don’t we just ask him about it?”</p>
<p>“This is how Slytherins deal with their own. With <em>subtlety</em>.”</p>
<p>Hermione fought the urge to laugh, unsuccessfully. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? I might need the supervision, lest I do something unforgivably Gryffindor. You could give me pointers from under the Invisibility Cloak.”</p>
<p>“Leaving aside the fact that this strategy failed at Gringotts, Malfoy Manor is protected by ancient wards that will alert its master to the presence of uninvited guests. So I’m afraid that means Potter won’t be able to back you up, either. Are you afraid to be alone with Lucius?”</p>
<p>The honest answer was yes, and not for the reasons Snape suspected, but Hermione wasn’t about to admit that to him. </p>
<p>“In my experience, being at Malfoy Manor is usually not a good time. If you think Lucius is out for vengeance, I’d be up there alongside you as one of his top targets.”</p>
<p>“Even Lucius isn’t stupid enough to harm you under his roof, when he’s only just clawed his way back into polite society. For the second time, I might add.” Snape began drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, suddenly looking irritable. “You should have pushed to meet at a neutral location where I could have shadowed you. Now that you’ve agreed to meet on his territory, he’ll never give up that advantage. While I don’t believe you’ll be in danger, everything about this invitation is suspicious. Do you think I enjoy sitting on the sidelines while you do my dirty work?”</p>
<p>Blindsided by Snape’s abrupt change in tone, Hermione couldn’t repress the retort that came to her lips.</p>
<p>“Have I ever complained about helping you? I consider it a privilege, as difficult as it’s been—as difficult as you can be, frankly. We can disagree on strategy, and I may not be a master spy like you were—are—but I’m not your student anymore! You can’t terrorize me into submission with your criticism.”</p>
<p>She found herself breathing hard, as if she had just come from a long run. Her little speech would surely only make Snape angrier—or worse, furnish him with another opportunity to mock her.</p>
<p>Instead, he merely looked at her until the silence became uncomfortable. She had the feeling he was sizing her up.  </p>
<p>“Bravo, Miss Granger,” he drawled at last. “That was a masterclass in Gryffindor bravery. I had no intention of criticizing <em>you</em>. If I ever make that mistake, you have only to remind me which House you were Sorted into.”</p>
<p>That was as close to an apology as one could ever expect from Snape. His words puzzled her, however.  Who had he meant to criticize?</p>
<p>“Now then,” he continued, “we were talking about Lucius.”</p>
<p>She decided to accept Snape’s proffered olive branch, but filed away his strange outburst for future examination.</p>
<p>“Anything else I should be prepared for, my oh-so-cunning Head of Slytherin?”</p>
<p>“Unlike myself,” Snape said, a sly note creeping into his voice, “Lucius is one of those men who are susceptible to flattery. I understand from the papers that Narcissa left him after the war.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I heard it was amicable. As far as those things go.” She paused as Snape’s words sank in. “Hang on, are you suggesting that I tart myself up for Lucius Malfoy?”</p>
<p>“No. Again, subtlety, Miss Granger. Just act like you think being invited to the Manor is as much of a privilege as Lucius does. That ought to take you a long way.”</p>
<p>Hermione felt herself arching an eyebrow. Was that gesture contagious?</p>
<p>“Rightly or wrongly, these things matter to the old pureblood families.  You nearly gave yourself away yesterday. Violetta Zabini would never go out in public dressed plainly. For them, it’s a question of respect, both for yourself and for others. If you’re incapable of buttering Lucius up, then we can do things <em>your</em> way. Let’s Stun him, forcibly extract his memories for examination, and Obliviate him.” Snape paused. “To be clear, we shouldn’t do that. Lucius is a formidable duelist, even outnumbered. And the Manor is crawling with house elves.”</p>
<p>“Not to mention that I have no intention of attacking a man in his own home, even if that man is Lucius Malfoy,” said Hermione reprovingly.</p>
<p>“Lucius would appreciate that; I don’t think he’d put it past you after the Pensieve interrogation. Have you spoken to him since then, by the way? Other than yesterday?”</p>
<p>“Not really.” Hermione shifted guiltily in her seat, uncomfortable with the direction Snape was heading in.</p>
<p>“Potter looked in my Pensieve without an invitation once. If not for the fact that he was literally the Chosen One, I would have done him a permanent injury. I tell you this only to help you understand how Lucius might feel toward you.”</p>
<p>“I thought you said he wouldn’t be stupid enough to harm me under his roof.”</p>
<p>“I should probably account for the risk that he’s gotten stupider over time,” Snape said, half to himself. “At any rate, Lucius is extremely susceptible to flattery and you’ll be able to mollify any lingering anger that way. The point is, you really ought to go out of your way to show him deference when you see him.”</p>
<p>“I’m going to go over there dressed to the nines, determined to be charmed by everything from his conversation to his silverware. Does that meet your approval?”</p>
<p>“I think you’re going to be so disarming that Lucius would be in less danger than if you actually attacked him.”</p>
<p>Snape was one to talk about being disarming. The sardonic little smile that he gave her would have made her drop her wand faster than an Expelliarmus. It lingered in her blood for hours, only dissipating later that evening when Ron asked her over dinner why she was in such a good mood.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>At work the next day, Hermione passed Harry’s office on her way back from the kitchen. It was her habit first thing in the mornings to make herself a cup of tea when she got in. Unexpectedly, she saw Harry inside, bent over a sheaf of documents. Between the dark circles under his manic eyes and a couple days’ worth of unshaven scruff, he looked a little crazy.</p>
<p>“Morning, Harry! This is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t realize you ever got in this early.”</p>
<p>This was an understatement. Hermione, who was well known for arriving at the office before the metaphorical cock’s crow, never saw her Head Auror before her third or fourth cup of tea.</p>
<p>“Do you have a minute? I’ve got updates on Snape and Lucius.”</p>
<p>Harry started and looked at Hermione guiltily.</p>
<p>Assuming he felt guilty about the fact that she had made progress on Snape’s case without him, she tried to forestall any apologies.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, I didn’t put in extra work over the weekend. In fact, I ran into Lucius completely by chance outside of Flourish and Blotts.”</p>
<p>“Must be one of his favorite haunts,” Harry said wryly. Hermione remembered with a jolt that Flourish and Blotts was where they had both met Lucius for the first time as twelve-year-olds. “Didn’t realize he loves reading as much as you do. Are you sure it was a coincidence?”</p>
<p>“I’m not. Snape definitely found it suspicious.” Hermione launched into the story of Lucius’s dinner invitation and Snape’s intention that she go to Malfoy Manor alone. “Sorry to leave you out of this one. Snape insisted. I don’t entirely agree with his reasoning, but we <em>are</em> acting on his behalf in this matter. It feels almost like I’m his private investigator, except he’s not paying me.”</p>
<p>Hermione expected Harry to ask what Snape’s reasons were, but his sheepish reaction surprised her.</p>
<p>“That’s fine. I, er, actually meant to talk to you about Snape. I hate to ask, but do you think you could solve Snape’s mystery on your own going forward?” Harry exhaled loudly, betraying his stress level. “Keep me in the loop, and please feel free to bounce ideas off me, but I just don’t think I’ve got the time to do all the legwork that Snape’s case is going to require. Unless you’ve got a Time Turner? Sorry, Hermione—the last thing I want to do is abandon you.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Harry, I’m the one who should be apologizing.” Hermione felt a powerful sympathy for her best friend. No one with a heart could see his haggard features and still ask him to do more. “I can’t imagine how thin you must be stretched, between Al and James. ”</p>
<p>Harry laughed. “That’s a nice thought! Wish that was it. I’d love to spend more time with them, not to mention it would put Ginny in a better mood. No, we had another breakthrough on Project Mogul over the weekend.”</p>
<p>Project Mogul was the code name that MLE had given to the Muggle election interference investigation. It was Hermione’s turn to feel guilty. Though the case was her department’s biggest priority at the moment, she had spent much more time thinking about Snape over the past few days.</p>
<p>Harry continued, “Remember how we found all those magically duplicated ballots in the vault at Westminster? The Americans are convinced that the same thing is happening in their upcoming presidential election. Election day is a little than a month away for them, but absentee balloting has started in a lot of states. I can never keep track of which ones, there are so many and they’re all on different timelines. Why they have a federal system, I still don’t understand.”</p>
<p>“Not to be terribly provincial, but what has this got to do with us? I would have thought the Americans would want to handle this internally, it being a matter of domestic security.”</p>
<p>“You’re confusing their magical government with their Muggle one,” Harry said, wagging his finger at her. His tired expression was lighting up for the first time during their conversation. “Didn’t you read <em>The Colonies: A History</em>?”</p>
<p>“Is that even a book?”</p>
<p>“To be honest, I’m not sure,” Harry laughed. “You talked about <em>Hogwarts, a History</em> so much that Ron and I had a running joke about a series of books that were <em>XYZ, a History</em>. Whenever we had an argument about Quidditch, say, whether Wales won the European Cup in 1990, I’d go, ‘Why don’t you naff off and check <em>Quidditch, a History?’</em>”</p>
<p>“Harry, that book exists. It’s called <em>Quidditch Through the Ages</em>.”</p>
<p>“The point is, American wizarding politics are completely different from their Muggle politics. Muggle Yanks are obsessed with sovereignty and isolationism, but the Wizarding government is just as reasonable as the Ministry when it comes to international cooperation, which I personally think we’re really good at. Maybe the Triwizard Tournament was good for something. So, MACUSA—you know, their Wizarding Congress—has reached out to us for coordinate efforts on Mogul.”</p>
<p>Hermione was impressed. “When did you become a political scientist?”</p>
<p>“I know I look like a slacker compared to you, but I’ve been paying attention at work.” Harry grinned roguishly. “Mogul is huge, Hermione. This is the biggest thing we’ve done since the war. You could even say the war never ended. It won’t be over as long as the people behind Mogul are still at large.”</p>
<p>“So, what does MACUSA want?”</p>
<p>“They’ve invited us to join their election observation and tampering prevention efforts. It’s a prime intelligence-gathering opportunity. Since the Muggle elections just happened in Britain, I’ve suspected that the perpetrators behind Mogul would move their activities to America in time for their elections.”</p>
<p>“Not to be a stickler, but MACUSA should have come to me or Hestia first.” Hermione didn’t believe in territoriality at work, and Harry was the last person she would feel threatened by. At the same time, as a woman advancing into the upper echelons of government, she couldn’t help feeling aggravated that a foreign power had bypassed her to conduct international affairs with her male subordinate.</p>
<p>“You know the Americans, no sense of protocol,” said Harry, lifting his hands expressively in a what-can-be-done gesture. “Anyway, over the weekend, armed protestors marched on Washington, D.C. claiming there was going to be election fraud. They broke into the Capitol Building and members of Congress had to be rushed into hiding. As you can imagine, it ended in violence. No elected officials were hurt, but five people were killed.”</p>
<p>“That’s terrible. I don’t understand—these people were violently protesting something that hasn’t happened yet? What exactly did they want?”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t make sense,” Harry said darkly. “We’re convinced that Dark wizards are behind this, for several reasons.” He began ticking them off on his fingers. “One, when the Wizarding Bureau of Investigation questioned some of the perpetrators, they seemed to have been Confunded. They were convinced, on the basis of absolutely no evidence, that there is a massive partisan conspiracy to steal the votes and throw the election results.” Harry gestured at the documents he’d been reading when Hermione interrupted him. “These are transcripts of WBI’s interviews with the perpetrators. Listen to this one: ‘Stop the steal! They are on the verge of perpetrating the biggest election fraud in the history of this country and we have the right to use force to stop them.’”</p>
<p>“They certainly sound Confunded.”</p>
<p>“Two, the protests seemed to be organized on a level that these people wouldn’t have been able to accomplish. Hundreds of people—not exactly the brightest and best Muggles, either—with no apparent centralized leadership converged on the capital in a coordinated manner. Either some serious coincidences were at work here, or someone was pulling the strings behind the scenes. Three, the Americans have the best security agencies in the world. It doesn’t seem likely that these backwater Muggles would be able to get past them and into the Capitol Building without magical assistance.”</p>
<p>“If you’re right, and this is the work of Dark wizards, then we should be on guard. This shows a level of sophistication that’s arguably beyond even Voldemort. It’s much more subtle to tear the Muggles apart from within, instead of trying to overthrow the Wizarding order.”</p>
<p>“Voldemort was too much of an egomaniac to operate behind the scenes like this,” Harry agreed. “It has to be Lestrange. I’m taking a team to the States to investigate while impressions are still fresh. We can’t let him slip through our fingers again. But don’t worry, I’m going to stay on top of my regular caseload while I’m chasing Lestrange down. I can manage that from America or take a Portkey back whenever I need to handle something in person. You won’t be picking up my slack any more.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be honest, I’m disappointed that you won’t be joining me and Snape on further break-ins, but you’re doing the right thing. We need to bring Lestrange in.” A traitorous voice inside Hermione’s head asked if she were in fact being honest. The loss of Harry meant plenty of one-on-one time with Snape, which was far from an unpleasant prospect.</p>
<p>“I’m disappointed, too. Gringotts was a blast. If I catch Lestrange before you solve Snape’s mystery, I want in again.”</p>
<p>“We’ll slow roll the investigation so you can rejoin us,” Hermione said teasingly. “When are you leaving?”</p>
<p>“This afternoon, actually. I’m afraid I’ll have to miss our check-in meeting with DMR. Will you give Arthur my update?”</p>
<p>DMR, or the Department of Muggle Relations, represented the pinnacle of Arthur Weasley’s professional career. Following the war, with Minister Shacklebolt’s blessing, he had expanded the former Department for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts from a notorious cul-de-sac into a thriving, growing organization with real influence within the Ministry. While still not one of the most prestigious Ministry departments, DMR was enjoying unprecedented prominence at the moment due to Project Mogul.</p>
<p>“Yes, of course. Good luck, Harry.” Hermione gave him a quick hug. “Keep me posted on your progress.”</p>
<p>Hermione left Harry’s office buoyed by a wave of excitement for Harry and the prospect of finally catching Lestrange, whose evasion of justice remained an enormous source of embarrassment for the Ministry. Her excitement was tempered, however, by MACUSA’s end-run around her authority. Harry’s nonchalant attitude towards it, and his complicity in the same, continued to rankle after their conversation. Hermione tried to put it out of her mind, but the best she could do was refrain from mentioning it when she saw Hestia later that afternoon. Hestia would like it as little as Hermione did, and Hermione felt too much loyalty to Harry to expose him to Hestia’s displeasure.</p>
<p>When Hestia stopped by Hermione’s office to collect her for their standing meeting with DMR (a gesture that Hermione normally appreciated), Hermione was frantically trying to add last-minute agenda revisions. Some she ordinarily would have worked on over the weekend, some had arisen from her conversation with Harry.  </p>
<p>“Go ahead without me,” she said. “I’ll catch up.”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it,” said Hestia cheerily. “I’ll wait for you. Despite what DMR might think, the extra five minutes won’t make or break the Muggle government.”</p>
<p>While Hermione would have always taken Project Mogul seriously due to her lifelong interest in Muggle-wizard relations, Arthur’s involvement put her under increased pressure to do a good job. She therefore strove to arrive at their meetings as prepared as possible. Knowing all this, Hestia nevertheless gave Hermione only thirty seconds of silence before she started chattering again.</p>
<p>“By the way, the Anniversary Gala is coming up in two months. This year the committee have decided each department needs to contribute to the entertainment. Can you imagine a bigger waste of time? Just hire the Weird Sisters for the night and be done with it, I say. They want to do something special since it’s the tenth anniversary. Kingsley’s given them his blessing, so we’ll have to humor them. I know you’re busy, but I was rather hoping you’d take the lead on this project. It’ll be a great way for you to get more visibility within the Ministry, you’ll have the opportunity to work with people we normally don’t encounter, and--”</p>
<p>“I’m already working on it with Lucius Malfoy,” said Hermione absently, still trying to rephrase a bullet point.</p>
<p>“<em>Oh</em>. When I mentioned working with new people, I meant the Department of Mysteries, you know, or Magical Transportation.” A note of prurient interest had entered Hestia’s tone, belatedly putting Hermione on guard. “Really, Lucius Malfoy? Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”</p>
<p>Hermione set her quill down, resigned to the fact that she would have to work with her tenth draft of the agenda, rather than the perfect version she had hoped for. “Well, we haven’t actually figured anything out yet, but we’ve set up a meeting to discuss.”</p>
<p>“When? I checked your schedule with Natalie and your calendar looks pretty clear for the next couple of weeks.”</p>
<p>Hermione realized she had just walked into a carefully laid trap. She made a mental note to talk to her executive assistant about giving Hestia total transparency into her calendar. “Ah… he suggested after-work drinks.  Between our schedules, it was hard to find time during work hours.”</p>
<p>Under no circumstances could she let her boss know that she was meeting Lucius for dinner at Malfoy Manor that very evening. It was bad enough that Hestia knew she was meeting Lucius outside of work hours at all.</p>
<p>“When exactly are you meeting him? And where? What do you think he has in mind for MLE? Annoyingly handsome for a reformed Death Eater, isn’t he? There are all sorts of rumors as to why his wife left him…”</p>
<p>Hestia’s commentary flowed unceasingly, right until they took their seats at the conference table where Arthur Weasley and his undersecretary awaited them. </p>
<p>Hermione hadn’t obtained her position by demonstrating an aptitude for misdirection, prevarication, or the subtle art of giving non-answers. However, under Hestia’s management, she had quickly acquired a proficiency in these skills, which contributed to her success on the job as much as any of the other, formidable qualifications she possessed. By putting all her skills to use on the present occasion, Hermione ensured firstly that Hestia remained ignorant of the provocative offer of Margaux and dinner, and secondly that Arthur heard no reference to his erstwhile nemesis, whose name alone could still induce a minor apoplexy in the Weasley patriarch.</p>
<p>After handling Hestia, Hermione almost welcomed the evening’s challenge of navigating the minefield of sexual innuendoes, backhanded compliments and subtle traps that comprised conversation with Lucius Malfoy.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lucius is a blast to write! I’m not going to be able to resist featuring him heavily in upcoming chapters, but I’m guessing readers of this fic won’t mind ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Dinner, Followed by Disarray</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Malfoy Manor was a handsome building in any light, but dusk set it off to particular advantage. Its pale stone façade reflected the purples, oranges, and pinks dyed across the sky by the setting sun. Lights twinkled from countless mullioned windows, turning the house into an enormous jewelry box. Over the splash of the fountain in the courtyard, peacocks cried distantly to each other across the shadowed grounds.</p>
<p>Hermione was glad that she had followed Snape’s advice and dressed for the occasion. A place like Malfoy Manor required a suit of armor to enter.</p>
<p>The front door swung open at her entrance, though nobody was there to greet her. She was reminded of Muggle fairy tales where an unsuspecting hero enters an empty castle, partakes of refreshments provided by unseen powers, and ends up paying for his host’s hospitality with his life, or his youngest daughter.</p>
<p>At the threshold, the enormous foyer spread out before her like a chessboard, its floor inlaid with alternating black and white marble tiles. An obvious metaphor about a pawn in a game between two masters came to her mind. If she was a pawn, at least her first move was easy. All she had to do was advance.</p>
<p>She proceeded inside with a caution that proved unnecessary. Despite her timid footsteps, the cold marble floors announced her. Every click of her heels echoed for what sounded like miles.</p>
<p>The sound must have traveled far indeed, for an elf suddenly popped up in front of Hermione, bowing and welcoming her to Malfoy Manor in a tinny voice.  Almost simultaneously, Lucius appeared at the top of the grand staircase at the end of the foyer, resplendent in brocaded dress robes. His hair shone like pale fire in the candlelight.</p>
<p>“Good evening, Miss Granger,” he said, descending the stairs unhurriedly. “Welcome to the Manor.”</p>
<p>“Thank you. It’s been a long time since I was here. Though I must say, this visit is already promising to be more enjoyable than the last.”</p>
<p>“The less said about that, the better,” Lucius agreed. “My hope is that we can give you more pleasant memories tonight.”</p>
<p>His tone was courteous, even bland, but the impolite side of Hermione’s nature scented innuendo and went off baying in some very dark undergrowth.</p>
<p>“Oddsy, where are your manners? Take Miss Granger’s cloak.”</p>
<p>The elf hesitated. “Master is not giving Oddsy clothes, is he? Oddsy is not like Dobby, Oddsy likes serving the Malfoy family.”</p>
<p>“Did you coach your house elf before I came over?” Hermione asked, only half-joking.</p>
<p>“Your feelings about house elf rights are infamous,” Lucius said wryly. “I’m afraid you’re something of a legend amongst them. Were you really unaware? Apart from your reputation, my house elves are skittish about handling clothes in general after what happened with Dobby. I could hardly get them to do the laundry for weeks afterward. Oddsy, neither Miss Granger nor I have any intention of freeing you.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Master,” squeaked the elf, looking noticeably relieved. Removing her cloak, Hermione turned to deposit it into Oddsy’s waiting hands. Lucius stopped in his tracks halfway down the staircase.</p>
<p>Underneath her cloak, she wore a daring Muggle cocktail dress. Elegantly ruched folds of gold silk swept upwards to a high bateau neckline in front, dropping precipitously behind to expose the curves of her back. Snape’s transfigured emeralds glittered at her throat.</p>
<p>In choosing her outfit, Hermione took a mischievous pleasure in juxtaposing the Muggle with the magical. From the way he was staring, Lucius seemed to have strong, not entirely unpleasant feelings about the introduction of Muggle fashion to his ancestral home. Even the portraits on the walls were murmuring furiously to each other. The reaction was exactly what Hermione had hoped for. Lucius deserved to be piqued a little, given the rise he had gotten out of her the day before. He hadn’t even seen the back of the dress yet.</p>
<p>“And you wondered why I wanted to have this conversation outside of the office,” Lucius said at last, resuming his descent. The portraits fell silent as soon as he spoke, though some cast disapproving looks at him. His tone had changed; what it lost in courtesy, it gained in rapacity. “Looking at you, I feel like a young man again.”</p>
<p>Truthfully, Lucius was hardly past his prime. His broad chest and shoulders gave Hermione an uncharacteristically childlike desire to be picked up and carried away (perhaps back up those stairs and into a bedroom). He had a pair of the longest legs she’d ever seen on a man.</p>
<p>“Save your flattery, Malfoy. I’m not going to tap dance at the Gala no matter how much you butter me up.”</p>
<p>“Tap dancing wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” he said, joining her at last at the foot of the stairs. At first she thought he was leering at her chest, but bizarrely, he appeared to be studying her necklace. “I rather thought we’d save that for the Department of Muggle Relations.”</p>
<p>“You should have Arthur Weasley over for dinner; he’ll be able to confirm DMR’s contribution.”</p>
<p>“Much as I… respect Arthur Weasley, I’d only invite him to dinner if I were reasonably assured that he’d show up in similar attire.”</p>
<p>Lucius led her toward the dining room, which was just as impressively proportioned as the foyer. Gilt mirrors hanging on the walls multiplied the expansive space. Dozens of reflected Luciuses and Hermiones danced around each other as the real ones made their way to their seats, Hermione getting the place of honor at Lucius’s right hand.</p>
<p>Snape hadn’t been kidding about how shallow purebloods were. The fact that Lucius had plastered his dining room in wall-to-wall mirrors branded him a raving egotist. No one else could want a front-row seat to the mundane spectacle of watching themselves eat at home.</p>
<p>Raving egotist or not, Lucius had the manners to pull out Hermione’s chair for her. This old-fashioned courtesy she had last received when her parents had taken her to a fancy restaurant on vacation in France years ago. At the time, the gesture had cost the better part of a couple hundred Euros. Lucius’s gallantry this evening undoubtedly came at its own price, one which involved neither Muggle nor Wizarding currency.</p>
<p>As she sat in the proffered chair, she heard Lucius inhale sharply. It was followed by a long exhalation, which she could have sworn she felt on her skin. He had just seen the length of her back exposed by her dress.</p>
<p>“I have to congratulate myself for my foresight in installing these mirrors,” he remarked casually. “Your outfit deserves to be admired from all angles.”</p>
<p>Hermione was only human. She could listen to Lucius compliment her appearance all night in his cultivated tones. But she was also professional enough to attempt staying on topic.</p>
<p>“What exactly are the other departments contributing to the gala? You made it sound like a talent show, but I don’t think there’s enough artistic talent in the whole Ministry to put on a Nativity play.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know about that. Between you and me, we’d have two thirds of the wise men. The Department for the Care and Regulation of Magical Creatures could probably get their hands on a goblin and a couple of house elves to play baby Jesus and the sheep. Alternatively, I could always volunteer Oddsy.”</p>
<p>Oddsy reappeared at their elbows, as if summoned by his name, and began to pour the wine and serve the first course. To Hermione’s chagrin, the wine was every bit as excellent as Lucius had promised. Against her will, she had already begun to feel like she was in for a good time.</p>
<p>“I call Balthazar,” she said. “That was my dream role in primary school but I always got relegated to a non-speaking part like donkey. I think my teachers relished the opportunity to shut me up for once.”</p>
<p>“A sentiment that none of your Hogwarts professors shared, I’m sure.”</p>
<p>“You know better than that, having been acquainted with Snape. Hang on, how do you know what a Nativity play is?”</p>
<p>Though not above baiting Lucius, she had let the Muggle reference slip inadvertently. Her surprise at Lucius’ familiarity with the concept derailed her train of Snape-related thought.</p>
<p>“My dear Miss Granger, I’m a citizen of the post-blood status world that you and your friends helped usher in. This old wizard can still learn a few new tricks.”</p>
<p>Another reference to his age. Hermione wondered if he truly felt their age difference to be so great. As Lucius took a sip of his wine, Hermione watched the subtle motion of his Adam’s apple and felt strangely moved.</p>
<p>“To answer your original question, the other departments haven’t submitted proposals yet. I was rather hoping you might set an example that the rest of them could strive to emulate.”</p>
<p>“It’s hardly fair to blindside us with a difficult extracurricular assignment when we all have demanding day jobs.” Hermione couldn’t help the note of petulance that slipped into her voice. “Very few of us have a skillset that includes ‘event planning’, and I think those who do are already on the planning committee with you.”</p>
<p>“That’s exactly the point!” said Lucius with animation. “The planning committee consists entirely of people who have the inclination and experience to stage such events, which is to say they’ve had the financial means and leisure time to throw large parties on a regular basis in their private lives, which is to say they’re purebloods from old families. The Anniversary Gala is meant to promote intermixing amongst all strata of Wizarding society. How can we credibly claim to do that if the event is, on the one hand, set up by people who all summer at the same exclusive resorts, and on the other hand, assiduously avoided by everyone else? I <em>am</em> referring to you, Miss Granger. It hasn’t escaped me that you’ve only attended two out of the past nine galas.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t realize anyone was keeping count,” said Hermione, making a moue. She was stunned by Lucius’s impassioned speech. Was he having her on? “I also didn’t realize you had grown to, er, care so much about the intermixing of Wizarding society.”</p>
<p>Lucius gave her a long, measured look. “I confess to having self-interested motives. Over time, I’ve come to appreciate the comforts of a quiet life. The greatest threat to a quiet life is instability in our society. You don’t have to be a devoted student of history to recognize the main causes of societal upheaval over the past century.”</p>
<p>Hermione hadn’t come to Malfoy Manor with any intention of discussing blood status politics or the history of Wizarding Europe, but Lucius had drawn her irresistibly onto those topics. As a conversational partner, he proved to be thoughtful, engaging, and provocative. Despite his now ostensibly open mind on diversity, he retained politically incorrect views on a number of issues, including Dumbledore’s leadership at Hogwarts (“I confess I had the wrong ideas about his admission of Muggleborn students, but maintain that he had an overly conservative definition of the ‘Dark Arts’ for purposes of the school’s curriculum”) and the propriety of wielding his wealth to influence Ministry policy (“It seems socially irresponsible <em>not</em> to use it that way; would you have me spend it all buying Draco racing brooms?”).</p>
<p>In other words, Lucius still presented a challenge. To someone with Hermione’s propensity for crusades, this was even better than if he had become a full-blown Muggle rights activist. Such a transformation would have seemed disingenuous. More importantly, Hermione could be of no service to a fully reformed Lucius, while she could do much for a flawed man groping his way to redemption.</p>
<p>As they debated issue after issue, Hermione lost count of the courses that succeeded each other on her plate. She realized with dismay that she needed to bring up Snape before dinner was over. At this point, Lucius also seemed to have completely discarded the initial pretext for his invitation, the Anniversary Gala, by the wayside of their conversation.</p>
<p>Over the dessert course, as Hermione was mustering the courage to reference Snape apropos of nothing, Lucius cut her off with his own non sequitur.</p>
<p>“That necklace is beautiful on you, by the way.” He took a bite of chocolate cremeux. “I’d always wondered where <em>les Petits Pois</em> ended up.”</p>
<p>From the way he pronounced it, she could tell it was the proper name for her emeralds. She struggled to suppress the mounting anger she felt toward Snape.</p>
<p>“How do you recognize this?”</p>
<p>“Ask Severus.”</p>
<p>“What--how do you—?”</p>
<p>Lucius gave her a dazzling smile. “It’s quite enjoyable seeing you so flummoxed. I have to savor this now, as I fear I’ll have precious few opportunities to wrongfoot you in future.”</p>
<p>“He said he transfigured this out of a shoelace!”</p>
<p>“My dear, why would he ever waste his time learning how to transfigure fine jewelry? It’s not as if he’s ever had the occasion to present gifts to women before, poor man.”</p>
<p>“You should have this back.” Hermione reached up to unclasp the necklace. “Luckily, I haven’t formed too much of an attachment to it as I’ve been under the impression that it was a bit of string.”</p>
<p>“It suits your coloring,” Lucius said. “Keep it.”</p>
<p>“I really couldn’t,” she protested, still fumbling with the fastening. She didn’t want to wear what had presumably been a gift from Lucius to his ex-wife, who was probably in the same league as Violetta Zabini in the looks department, and therefore light years above Hermione.</p>
<p>Lucius leaned over and actually put his hand on the back of her neck to prevent her from taking the jewels off. She felt as though every hair on her neck had suddenly come to life.</p>
<p>“If I keep this, it will have nothing but wistful associations for me. If you keep it, I’ll be able to form some new ones every time I see you wearing it.”</p>
<p>Hermione dropped her hands, allowing Lucius to mercifully remove his. “I won’t fight you on this if you tell me what you know about Snape.”</p>
<p>“It seems impolite to talk about Severus behind his back, doesn’t it? Why don’t you come back with him in tow another evening and we can all have a nice chat? Maybe he could contribute his input on your contribution to the Anniversary Gala as well.”</p>
<p>“I think he might be leery of coming here unless you can assure him that you won’t be putting him in another Malfoy vault to molder.”</p>
<p>“Bravo. I was wondering whether he would figure out the vault. Then again, he could hardly fail with the brightest witch of her age on his side.”</p>
<p>“I’m serious, Lucius. How do we know that you don’t have nefarious plans for him?”</p>
<p>“He’s lucky to have such a devoted defender. Is that why he didn’t come along tonight? Out of fear of me? How flattering. Well, let me assure you, I know Death Eaters he should be afraid of. If I bore malicious intent toward our double agent, I’d have simply turned his body over to them while it was in my custody. And before you ask, I’m not in contact with any of them. I could have made it known I had Snape, and they would have found me.”</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you try to wake him up? Did you keep him in stasis?”</p>
<p>“No,” said Lucius, laughing in disbelief. “For weeks afterward I tried everything at my disposal. I command financial resources you can only dream of, arcane spellbooks that don’t exist in Britain outside of my library, and the peculiar brand of magic possessed by my house elves. Nothing worked.”</p>
<p>“Why not come forward and ask for help? Maybe the Order could have revived him.”</p>
<p>Lucius raised a finger forbiddingly. “This is veering into territory that we can only explore in Severus’s company. There are things I’d rather say to his face instead of having you repeat them to him. How is he?”</p>
<p>He seemed genuinely concerned. Hermione took a leap of faith and answered him honestly, though Snape would likely have killed her for discussing him in the following terms.</p>
<p>“He’s honestly as happy as I’ve ever seen him. Mind you, that’s not saying a lot, given that it’s Snape, but… he’s different. It’s as if he used to be walking around with a giant weight on his back and that’s gone.”</p>
<p>Lucius gave a rare smile of pure pleasure, untinged by sarcasm or malice. “I look forward to seeing this for myself. Bring him to dinner tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“<em>Tomorrow</em>? Lucius, I have a life of my own. I can’t answer to your every beck and call.” Not to mention, she thought silently, Ron would leave me if he found out that I’d engaged to have dinner two nights in a row at Malfoy Manor.</p>
<p>As if he’d read her mind, Lucius said dismissively, “Spend the next night or two with Weasley if you need to maintain the domestic peace, but bring Severus sometime this week. I know your reputation at the Ministry. Weasley won’t question you if you have to ‘stay late at the office.’ He must be used to that by now.”</p>
<p>Lucius had a point, but Hermione found it interfering of him to suggest that she lie to her partner, when he no longer had one to answer to. She conveyed her irritation as fluently as her emotions would allow her. Lucius, perhaps sensing that he had Hermione’s assent regardless, offered a gracious apology. They settled it that Hermione would consult Snape and bring him as soon as possible.</p>
<p>In the foyer, Hermione prepared to take her leave of Lucius. Oddsy fetched her cloak from the coat closet. Before she could take it from Oddsy, Lucius interceded.</p>
<p>“Allow me.” He moved behind Hermione and draped the cloak around her shoulders. At this close proximity, his cologne embraced her like a second layer. The fragrance eluded her comprehension, shifting through notes as seamlessly as a song. One moment she detected sandalwood; the next, it was replaced by something unrecognizable. She briefly worried that the scent would linger on her clothes and pique Ron’s jealousy, but then Lucius was speaking again as he guided her to his fireplace.</p>
<p>“I’ve had a charming evening, Miss Granger. Next time, Floo in directly.”</p>
<p>At those words, an angry susurration commenced among the family portraits bedecking the walls. Before she could respond, Lucius tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, and firmly handed her into the green flames. In her haste to announce her destination, and the confusion occasioned by Lucius’s last words, Hermione neglected to bid him goodbye.</p>
<p>In the vortex of the smoke and flames, Hermione’s thoughts swirled confusedly. By giving her direct Floo access to the Manor, Lucius implied a level of trust and intimacy that didn’t exist between them. It was the equivalent of a Muggle giving someone the key to his flat. Why bother, unless he intended to have her over frequently? The presumption both unnerved and flattered her.  She supposed that she had already agreed to dine with him twice in one week, a circumstance she would have thought impossible as of yesterday.</p>
<p>The first thing Hermione noticed when she arrived home was the insistent tug of Snape’s diary at her attention. She’d left it in her work bag in their bedroom upstairs, but the call came across as clearly as if it sat in her pocket. She was familiar with spells that grew stronger over time if ignored, but such magic was tricky to cast. Once again she marveled at Snape’s skills.</p>
<p>She would have hurried upstairs if not for the second thing she noticed upon her entrance. Ron was sitting on the couch, reading the evening edition of the Daily Prophet.</p>
<p>“Hello there,” Hermione said in a falsely cheery tone, shedding her cloak. She wished Ron were out somewhere, perhaps at a pub, anywhere really, as long as it was out of her way. She wanted to talk to Snape about serious matters instead of making small talk with Ron.</p>
<p>Ron set aside the paper slowly and looked up. Too late, Hermione recognized the shadow of anger in his voice and face. “I thought you were out working on Snape’s case.”</p>
<p>“I was,” said Hermione quickly, sensing that it was imperative to head Ron off before his temper ran away with him. “Ron, you knew I was going to be out.”</p>
<p>“Harry’s in America. So if Harry’s gone, why were you out with Snape until this hour in that outfit? Get a lot of work done over dinner and drinks?”</p>
<p>Hermione didn’t realize how late it had gotten, but time had eluded her at Lucius’s table. “If you talked to Harry,” she snapped, “you know why I had to go to dinner and drinks, and who I was with.”</p>
<p>“I heard from Ginny, actually. Mum wanted to do something nice for Ginny since she’s alone with the kids, so she had us all over for dinner tonight.”</p>
<p>Not for the first time, Hermione resented the interfering officiousness that Mrs. Weasley passed off as motherly concern. She had never stopped babying her grown children, which frankly explained a lot of things about Ron. The woman couldn’t even see her son-in-law go on a work trip without needing to gather her remaining children around her table.</p>
<p>The fact that Ron had heard about Harry through Ginny meant that Ron had no idea Hermione had actually met with Lucius. She had nearly given herself away just now, but Ron seemed oblivious to the possibility that she hadn’t been with Snape.</p>
<p>“I’m nothing but a bloody afterthought,” Ron griped vehemently. “I’ve got no idea what my girlfriend or my best friend are up to until I hear about it secondhand.”</p>
<p>“You had a choice in the matter! We asked you to be a part of this.”</p>
<p>“I don’t understand why you’re putting a damn sight more effort into this than our relationship. Can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you so dressed up.” Ron was looking her up and down. Rage and lust warred on his features in an almost comical fashion.</p>
<p>For a second, guilt attacked Hermione. It was true that she didn’t dress up for Ron. She’d dug up her show-stopping dress from the nether regions of her closet, where it had been relegated after the one time she’d worn it to the black-tie wedding of a Muggle cousin. But then she thought of how splendid Lucius had looked in his brocaded dress robes, and the obvious care he had put into planning the evening. Resentment flared against Ron. She couldn’t remember the last time he had so much as chosen a restaurant for date night.</p>
<p>“If you ever wanted to take me somewhere other than a Cannons match, I’d put on a dress and heels for you, too.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know why I bothered staying up for you.” Ron’s voice was raised to an alert-the-neighbors volume at this point. “You were clearly having a wonderful time until you came home.”</p>
<p>He turned and stomped away.  In tears now, Hermione nearly voiced her agreement to his retreating back, but the fact was that she didn’t even want to admit to herself how much she had enjoyed spending the evening with Lucius.</p>
<p>Wiping her eyes furiously, Hermione followed Ron. He entered their bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Hermione had no desire to confront him again, though she regretted leaving the diary in there. Snape would have to wait for a reply. She continued past their bedroom to the guest room down the hall, where she cried herself to sleep. Her sleep was fitful as the diary continued to prickle her consciousness, like a bad itch.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I almost feel bad for Ron, really. It’s hard competing with Lucius! And things won’t get easier when Snape starts throwing his weight around…</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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